Kim Possible: The Darkness Without
by eoraptor
Summary: A Dark KP Story, set 2 years after the end of the Kim Possible series and Movies. Kim and Ron head to Chicago to examine plots for G.J., but all is not as it seems after Kim's funeral and the promotion of one of GJ's top Agents. Newly Complete!
1. Chapter 1

Kim Possible: The Darkness Without

Pt 1

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley, and without their strokes of brilliance, none of us would be reading anything like this, and absolutely no offense to their hard work, blood, sweat, and ink is intended. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT!

Less Boring and Still Important Stuff: This work is inspired by and based on the fan artwork and concept, "The Green Wraith" by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: This is set in the year or two AFTER season four of the TV series and the two movies. (at the writing of this story season 4 is airing in the U.S. and is planned as the final part of "Kim Possible" in its animated Disney Channel form) In other words, it's set during what would be Team Possible's college years. While I want to keep the fun and whit of the series, it is as mentioned above based on a darker fan art piece and thus is not targeted towards the series intended young-teen/teen audience. I hope I can strike some kind of balance, but please keep in mind, death, bloodshed, terrorism, sexuality, etc, are not really topics tackled by this or any Disney series. For more of my thoughts, see the end of this and other parts of "The Darkness Without"

Now, on with the Story...

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A familiar four note tone trilled in a purse hanging from the arm of a redhead who was quickly walking from the campus proper to one of the outlaying auditoriums. A warm familiar smile graced the lightly painted lips of Kimberly Anne Possible as she pulled the gleaming blue smart phone out of her purse and clicked the answer button. After a moment of static, a familiar, but slightly more mature face appeared on the small screen.

"Hey Wade, what's the sitch?" Kim smiled at one of the faces she just didn't get to see as often as she liked these days.

Wade Loade was sixteen and becoming a handsome, if rapidly slimming, young man. When Kim and her cohorts had first started saving the world, he'd been a ten year old prodigy who'd already completed his own high school education. Now that people were off in the so-called "real world" He was busy consulting for Microsoft, and getting his Drivers License. Further proof that he was no longer a gifted shut-in were the stubble on his chin, and the firm biceps that bespoke his new hobbies that required the use of his hands as more than a conduit from brain to keyboard.

"Not much Kim, just got a hit on the site and it looks a little… …weird." 'The Site' of course, was the easily mistyped website of a one-time babysitter for whom anything really was possible. It had been through several iterations over the years, but had been scaled back just a bit when Team Possible had to split up due to the pains of higher education. Not to say the famous redhead didn't still get jobs now and again.

"Weird like Dr. Drakken's clown-ray, or weird like those emails I've been getting about male enhan…" Kim couldn't finish that with a straight face. She had to cover her mouth for a moment before she could suppress her giggle and continue.

Wade made a face and sighed. "I still don't understand why the university couldn't just install the filters I wrote for them… its only four million lines of code!"

Kim did giggle this time and again self-consciously covered her lips. "What can I say Wade, they'd rather buy the ones everyone else is using. Maybe you should ask your friend Bill about that one."

"Yeah yeah… Anyway, the message is weird like not the first or the second… It says there's going to be a jewel heist at your school's natural history museum, the Peabody, Tonight! Sounds fishy to me."

Kim agreed with that whole heartedly, and nodded at the kimmunicator in her palm. She ran a hand through her long red hair and looked up at the autumn sky over Cambridge, Mass, thinking about what her favorite techy had just told her.

Kim Possible had graduated Valedictorian from Middleton high almost two years ago, and had spent the last eighteen months doing semesters in Europe, America, and Japan. Now she was doing an ivy league stint, filling in her knowledge of law, and trying to live down her near-fame as the girl who could do anything. She wasn't exactly fending off the paparazzi, but she wasn't an anonymous legal-aide student either. News always spread about her extra-curricular activities fighting comically over-wrought super villains and saving the world while balancing a full class load and social life.

"Well, you know we've gotten tips like that before… usually not a problem, just some spurned henchman ratting out the boss," she responded after a moment, looking back to her handheld.

Something in Wade's demeanor told Kim that he wasn't so sure. "All right… I'll look into it after scrum. Anything else? How's Shelly treating you?" Kim grinned faintly and knew that, despite his new social streak, plugging Wade for info on his personal life would still leave him a blushing sputtering mass of dark skin and curls. It was a good way to get him off her back about something.

"Um, she's great... gotta go now though, big uh… contract to work on…" the little screen on the kimmunicator, that marvel of smart phone design, winked out and she slipped it back into her purse, walking again along the path, heels clicking on the pavement and a renewed grin on her lips.

Kim couldn't help but giggle just a bit. Some things never changed. She ran her fingertips through her hair once more, and wondered yet again time how she did it all; Pre-law, intramural rugby, volunteering at the center for justice, dating, and taking on the occasional dare-devil mission pro-bono.

She sighed softly, the warm familiar grin on her lips as she wondered how Ron did it too. He was busy fulfilling his dream to be a chef in Chicago, also volunteering, being a running back in something called Arena-football, and occasionally flying out to follow her on missions. And despite it all, he was still a clutz who managed to rip out his pants as often as he caught the bad guy.

Heels clicking away on the path and showing off her shapely legs under the prim business suit-dress, and with her pace light but brisk, she made her way to her next class. A cell phone was picked up behind a newspaper along that path, "The message has been delivered."

---

Several hours later, a blur of red, purple, and black dashed along the roof of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology. The museum was renowned for its cultural studies, even if Wade had called it natural history museum. Kim peered through the skylight and down into the main exhibit hall of the museum. She'd been here an hour now, and had yet to find any evidence of a break-in having occurred.

She sighed and sat back a bit, kicked at the asphalt gravel listlessly, and allowed her mind to drift ever-so slightly. She was enjoying Harvard, especially the rugby. She'd been head cheerleader at Middleton High, but she found she much preferred being the one being cheered for. And here at the major university, there as no shortage of official and unofficial womens' sport. Besides, it was much easier to stay in touch with Ron, the 'rents, the tweebs, and all her other friends when she was three time-zones away, not seven or more.

Ron's face, even in memory, brought a smile to her lips. It was true that they weren't formally an item any more… they'd agreed that it was just too hard with each globe-hopping, often now in different directions. Not that Kim minded having him on her arm at the clubs, or anywhere else for that matter; he was darned cute. He'd finally shed that Bueno Nacho belly the summer after high school, when he got his first "officially" solo mission, making him that much cuter.

Then again, which mission was it he had really shed the belly for; the mission to Japan to stop Monty Fisk, or the still incomplete mission to save "KP" from her panties. She blushed intently at the memory of that set of bumbled entendre's and romantic gestures. Ron was sweet to a fault, so he'd understood when she said that she really wasn't ready to take their relationship past to that stage.

This brought a mild frown to the porcelain features of the pre-law student and globe-trotter. None of the young men she'd met in the past year had been sweet, and only two had been as understanding. Honestly, was romance really that difficult?

Kim was running her gloved hands over her face when she heard the footsteps crunching through the asphalt nearby. She leapt to her feet, more quietly than the steps approaching her, and just as quickly was crouched to attack.

"Good evening Kimberly. Its been a while." Kim blinked. She knew that voice. But seven words was not a lot to put a face or name to a voice.

"Yeah, sure has…" She responded, trying to cover her confusion.

"About five years now? I think it was Christmas time."

A smile of recognition spread across Kim's face as she put the clipped, precise manner of speaking with a familiar face. Her suspicions were confirmed when a figure in a long dark blue coat, short brown hair, and a satin eye-patch came into the faint light glowing from the museum skylight.

"Dr. Director… what brings you to Cambridge? Don't tell me you're here for the baked beans?" She smiled warmly, but she knew Betty Director didn't leave her office at Global Justice headquarters, wherever that was, without a damned good reason.

"Well, I wanted to personally offer you an assignment, as my last official act as head of GJ." Kim looked at her in shock. Dr Director didn't seem that old, and she definitely didn't seem like the type to retire, quietly or otherwise.

---

"Oh, Come on! He was so off sides!" Ron Stoppable was busy peeling himself up off of the Astroturf and yanking the ball out of his left earpiece. His brightly colored Arena football uniform was nearly as loud as the crowd in the arena as the Chicago Rush took on the Upperton Skyhawks. It was a grudge match for Ron, and the blonde haired running back was really getting into it.

"I didn't see it." The ref shrugged off his protests as he pulled the pigskin out of his earpiece and lined up again, snorting.

Ron was here in Chicago to go to the Culinary Institute, but he was also still the record holder in Southern California for high school rushing yards, and Arena ball paid the bills better than flipping burgers on his partial scholarship. Plus the travel occasionally came in handy for his other career. KP seemed to like the new abs when they were in Morocco last month. He spared himself a brief grin before, "Hutt Hutt HUTT!"

"Hitman drops back… He lets it fly- NO! It's fake! Stoppable has the ball, he's at the fifteen, the ten, the five, Touchdown Rush!!! Crazy Legs Ron has just tied the Arena League record for single season points scored rushing!"

"Boooh Ya!!!" Ron spiked the ball and leapt into the fans just past the four foot padded wall that ringed the end zone as the indoor football stadium seemed to rattle with cheers and as pyrotechnics exploded in the rafters. The celebration was short, as were all things in Arena, including the intervals between scorings on the fifty-yard indoor field.

As he returned to the line, he gave the thumbs up to a certain pink rodent that was running back and forth on the edge of the padded wall that bounded the field.

"booh ya!" came the chipper little reply from the rodent that got more than a few odd looks as it scurried back and forth in its tiny Rush jersey with "00 – Rufus" on the back.

He stopped and looked a one of the front-row fans who didn't seem to be particularly excited by the play, despite his own Chicago jersey. Rufus made a sour face and ducked when the fan threw some nachos at him and then held his hand to his ear. Rufus blew a raspberry at him and scurried on down the endzone to hang out with the cheerleaders.

Ron dropped back this time, faking the D-line, and got another face full of artificial turf and bright blue face-mask for his trouble. A few seconds later the buzzer managed to sound out over the crowd along with a whistle from the ref, and more pyro's went off as the game ended 52-48 Chicago.

"No, the secondary and his damned rat both seem to be very occupied at the moment… and there's another game on Tuesday where he'll go for some record, I don't think we need to worry about him."

---

"You look very well Kimberly; college life seems to agree with you…" Dr. Director smiled politely as she fished a smart phone out of her own long coat.

Kim, for her part, was still trying to digest the words "last official act", and barely registered the compliment. "Dr. Director, is something wrong?"

Betty bit her lip for just a moment, and finally shook her head, the first few traces of silver appearing in her brown mop just above her brow, Kim noticed. "Nothing you need to be concerned with Miss Possible. Now, if you'd like to hold your Kimmunicator, I can send you the specifics of what we would like you to look into."

Kim did as asked, holding up Wade's most important creation. In just a moment, a green progress bar appeared and filled itself in. Then, after another moment, a familiar pair of faces appeared on the screen, one faintly green, the other decidedly blue.

"They're still working together?" she said incredulously.

"They are, and they seem to have the biggest plot yet… it makes Diablo-bots look like tinker toys, or so I understand."

"You understand? I thought you knew all the plots everywhere Dr. Director?" Kim watched the Director of Global Justice incredulously as she look down

"I've not been, at my best lately, Kimberly... that's why I'm retiring… but you'll be happy to know I'm being replaced by someone very capable… Not only is Agent… excuse me, Director Will Du personally asking for you on this, he'll be your liaison as well.

Kim was not exactly thrilled. Her relationship with GL was cordial, mostly thanks to Dr. Director's acceptance that she had no interest in joining them on a permanent basis, but Will Du, while he was a great bureaucrat, was no Betty Director. He wasn't the #1 field agent he was cracked up to be either, but that was beside the point. Still, maybe clothes made the man, so to speak… She hadn't seen Will in even longer than she'd seen Dr Director. He could have changed from the snobbish by-the-book-worm he'd been when they'd last worked together.

"Well, I'm happy you found such a… capable replacement Dr. Director. I hope you'll understand if I take a few hours to look into this?" Director nodded a bit, but she seemed to be elsewhere at the moment mentally, and Kim noticed her good eye was looking up at the stars now, not at her. Kim frowned at that, but it wasn't polite to ask more about why she was out and Director Du was in. Either way, time was of the essence; in the World Saving game, there were no days to spare, and rarely were there hours.

"Of course Kimberly," came the response, after a moment of silence that had gone dangerously close to awkward, especially when that silence came from the usually precise Betty Director.

---

A disturbingly blue face peered up from the hatch of the machine and beady eyes blinked, causing an ugly and prominent scar near the left one to pucker slightly. A hand protected by a thick black rubber lab-glove ran over the face and through the receding black hair crowning his head. He looked perplexed. As much as a man who couldn't keep the days of the week straight but could concoct death-rays from old watch parts could look perplexed anyway.

"Shego, have you been messing with the Trans-particle Vortex Recommbinator?" The recipient of that wordy question looked up, not bothering to mask her irritability as she filed away at a glistening metal talon attached to a vividly green glove. She sneered at her employer for a moment and returned to her filing.

"I wouldn't touch your precious trans-sexual whatchamacallit with a ten-foot pole Dr. D. Honestly, I don't know why you even bother… you haven't even gotten one of those things to work since you got paroled."

The irritable sneer on her lips briefly flashed to mischievously taunting grin as she remembered how she had broken out of prison twice and stayed on the outside, while he had to be broken out months later only to be recaptured. Then, after that, he was paroled in a positively disgraceful moment for a working super-villain when it came out that trying to transform the San Francisco bay area into tapioca pudding, while a bad idea in principal, wasn't actually against the law.

With his plans sliding ever further into absurdity, her few joys these days came from draining Drakken's bank account while performing no actual work, and needling him. God, Kim Possible hadn't even shown up to their last plot, some Global Justice muscle had merely broken his latest toy, held him for questioning, and then let them go on their merry way. Drakken's slipping whit's showed in his appearance, he didn't seem to spend as much care on his precious lab jackets, or hair gel.

"TRANS-PARTICLE VORTEX RECOMMBINATOR." Drakken said in an odd manner which started haughtily, and faded to whining as he realized she wasn't even listening. "And there's a part here I don't remember putting in."

Shego looked up at the wayward scientist and her filing stopped for a moment. Drakken was many things, but he rarely was incautious about his inventions, at least during the construction phase…. Now when it came to operating them; that was another story. Her knees still quivered with the memory of the device created to make continents collide, and nearly being crushed under a metric ton of rubble when her erstwhile employer had cheaped out on construction costs for his college-cum-lair.

After a moment though, she shrugged off the ghost of concern and went back to her maintenance, blowing away some filings of dust and examining her handiwork. "You probably just stuck it in before you had your double frappucino this morning Dr. Dork."

Drakken ran his hand over his face more irritably. Shego and he had worked together now for nearly seven years, but she was becoming more insolent by the day… He wondered why he bothered renewing her contract at such exorbitant rates. Now she wasn't even insulting him under her breath, it was right out in the open. Honestly, more of his budget was going to her increasing vacations and wardrobe than to his lair's lease and hench-contracts any more.

As usual, though, he deferred to her. "You're probably right… hand me that neutronium spanner would you?"

The sound of renewed filing, and the humming of a club song he knew he'd heard before but couldn't quite place were the response, and he groaned. He eyed the new box and its red light once more before retrieving the tool himself. "call me beep me if you want to…" she half-sung to herself as she filed away.

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More Authors Notes: I'll try to stick to what is considered "cannon", or what appears on the TV show only (and the movies Sitch in Time and So the Drama). (with the exception of characters created for this work) Since Season Four has not completed airing in the U.S. as I start this, it may not be ENTIRELY canonical, but hey, "cannon is what people claim is real on space-ships that aren't" to quote a fellow poster on one of my fave message boards; so I'm not going to fear writing heretical work too much.

Much of the info not coming from my own mind and viewing of the series comes from wikipedia's pages regarding KP; as they seem to be the most generic/least controversial and also tend to reflect the things I understand about the series. Got a problem with that? Well, okay, but don't say you weren't warned.

Like any author, I enjoy constructive comments on my work and want to strengthen and expand my repertoire. That means I'm perfectly willing to listen to "Here's what I would do" statements, pointing out an error in a character, setting, or historical fact, etc... I don't enjoy the generic, "you suck," "This sucks," and "Kim Possible sucks!" type of comments. Like I said at the top of the work, if you can't tolerate this, or it is illegal where your from (strange but possible) Just Don't Read It!

Luscious praise for the work and/or its author is always welcomed ;)

Further notes about the tone of "The Darkness Without:" Like I said at the top of the piece, This work deals with darker material than the teen-target Disney Channel original series Kim Possible. For one, I've placed the characters in a post-high school world, with references to a few depressingly real world events, and sensibilities more like a twenty-something in post-ninties America. I think even young adults enjoy watching KP (albeit with a guilty social conscious) because of the quick whit and fairly well developed characters.

I'm hoping to keep in a bit of the screwball and slapstick, but I don't want it to clash with the tone of "Death of Kim Possible, World Hero" either. While Ron's pants being ripped off yet again is both funny and traditional to the series, and onamonapia style names such as Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable, and Wade Loade are part of the core of the show, they might clash with ideas such as limb removal, terrorism, and other mature fair. So here's hoping I can catch the older fans of the series with a bit more meat plot-wise than Disney usually provides and do it justice at the same time. All this said, don't worry, Rufus isn't going anywhere, even if I don't think a Naked Mole Rat has a lifespan of over a decade according to the zoology texts. ;)

Notes on Names: some names are not known in cannon, such as Wade's last name, Kim's mom's first name, and Shego's real name. Since season 4 is in production and airing at the time of this writing in the U.S., they may or may not be revealed on the show and contradict the names chosen here.

Anne seems to be a pretty decent name for Kim's mom. And interviews with the show's creators say that they don't object to this fan-christened moniker, so here it is. Wade Loade just seems to fit, and is used in other fanfics. Its not intended as a slight at fat people (although wade is heavy in the series) but the big two already have sing-song names, so I wanted to fill it out. Any other names that get created will probably generally not be so clever, but I'll try to keep up the colorful villain names.

Finally: Okay, I think I've beaten a dead horse and given you as much insight into my process as I feel comfortable with… hopefully you like my little stab at the universe of KP, since I tend to usually write original stuff without having to be tied into someone else's intellectual property too much. I'm hoping this is good in the way that Star Trek: The Next Generation is good; having different themes and pacing than its progenitor but keeping the same basic concepts and storylines: and not bad in the way Star Wars Episode I is bad (come on… medichlorines?!?!?!)


	2. Chapter 2

Kim Possible: The Darkness Without

Pt 2

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley, and without their strokes of brilliance, none of us would be reading anything like this, and absolutely no offense to their hard work, blood, sweat, and ink is intended. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT!

Less Boring and Still Important Stuff: This work is inspired by and based on the fan artwork and concept, "The Green Wraith" by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Two years after the fourth season of Kim Possible. The gang is growing up, but they still get together for a little "fun." It's been a month since Kim accepted a job from outgoing Global Justice director Dr. Betty Director to deal with a new threat from some old foes.

Now, on with the Story...

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Four Weeks Later

"KP!" "kim!" were the twin calls that greeted her at the airport as she stepped off the plane and smiled broadly. The first came from a handsome blonde man with the beginnings of a goatee and a healthy tan for someone who spent his winters in Chicago. The second greeting came from what looked like a hotdog wearing an overcoat and watch cap. The hotdog leapt from the man's shoulder and bounded past several startled passengers before scurrying up Kim's leg and torso, and nuzzling her cheek.

Late October in Chicago had all of three of them bundled up, but it didn't block the warmth of the hug and kiss that Ron gave Kim when he caught up to Rufus. After a long moment of hugging that wasn't quite friendship, but wasn't quite more any longer either, he let go and took her bags from her. Not that the former cheerleader needed any help carrying luggage when she could lay low ten henchmen at a time, but it was the right thing for him to do.

"Looking good Ron… I like the goatee, doesn't make you look diabolical at all." She grinned a little and elbowed him as they walked to the car, Rufus still perched on her shoulder and making stroking motions of his little chin as Kim giggled.

"You look amazing as always," Ron replied, letting the jibe slide as he smiled at her in return. It was true, in the two years since high school Kim had blossomed into a young woman who could easily be making her living in Milan and Paris, instead of juggling classes and the occasional global-domination plot. Her red hair was now held in a long tight pony braid, and it only helped draw attention, from Ron's and every other set of male eyes on the tarmac, down her slender back to the swell of a backside that could do more than merely have quarters bounced off of it. The rest of the Possible physique was just as stunningly firm, but not overly muscular despite her night-time pursuits and the teeth she bashed in on the rugby field. Womanhood had graced his best friend with hips and breasts that only made her even more stunning than she'd been as a head cheerleader and secret agent in short skirts and tight clothes.

Ron admired her openly, but not lewdly, and Kim smiled in return in one of those not-entirely-awkward moments former romantic interests sometimes shared.

Ron, of course, had grown up too. Aided by his semi-pro position with the Arena league, and the good food he was able to eat at the Culinary Institute. He'd become fairly well muscled, and their occasional forays to tropical climes had bronzed his once pale freckled skin. But his wasn't the frame most of the people in the terminal and parking-lot had been eyeing.

He blushed finally, and moved on to loading her things into the back of a third-hand SUV that ran about as well as it looked, which was to say that it probably did everything it needed to, as long as you had your tetanus shots up to date. "God how things change huh? You're flying in coach on a little charter, and I'm picking you up in this POS… not exactly night flights on the Concorde and rappelling from Army helicopters is it?"

Kim chuckled a little self-consciously and had to nod in agreement. Things had changed a lot more than she liked to admit. While Team Possible still took the occasional assignment, it was more like once every three months than once every three days. This meant that a lot of her 'favors' had been used up and they were reduced to scrounging together the money for public transportation. "Well, Army Helicopters don't give you honey roast peanuts, do they?"

She smiled as Rufus' eyes lit up and he dove bodily into her purse, emerging a moment later triumphantly with a little bag of Planters. As he tore into the packet, she hopped into the passenger seat and buckled up. After a moment, she looked over at her best friend and partner of almost two decades.

"Do you miss it Ron? The really busy times chasing Drakken and DNAmy and the rest?"

"I don't miss the monkeys!" He grinned. He was more or less passed his simiaphobia, but it still brought back the warm memories of fighting alongside KP. Well, mostly running and screaming, but still being useful.

"Well, we still do it don't we?" He shrugged a bit as they pulled out of O'Hare and into traffic. Why, is something going on KP?" He looked over at her with no small amount of concern while they were stopped at a light.

"Oh, it's nothing, Just feeling nostalgic I guess." Kim smiled a bit more wearily as they drove. "Did you know Dr. Director retired? A month ago, when she gave us this mission."

Ron blinked, but he had never been as up on the espionage stuff as KP and Wade. "Really, why?"

"She didn't say… but she didn't seem like her old self. I guess its true, you really can't do this forever…" Kim looked down at her lap and sighed, twirling her fingers as Rufus patted the back of her hand supportively and handed her the last peanut.

"Oh Kim… We do- You do important work that helps people everywhere… Just because someone else retires, doesn't mean we don't have decades of fighting the good fight left in us… Booh yah!"

"mmhmm mmhmm.. good fight" came the parroted response from her purse as Rufus held up a little fist defiantly.

Kim smiled warmly in that way only Kim Possible could, even though she still felt a little down. Then she grinned. She decided to shock Ron, and see if it would cheer her up as well. "Hey Ron, is there a Bueno Nacho round here somewhere? I've got this mondo craving for Naco."

Ron blinked and looked at her like a third arm had just grown out of her forehead. Then a huge grin spread across his face. "Booh Yah! Hey little buddy, KP finally got some taste buds!"

"cheese!!!!!" came Rufus' cry as he scurried up and held Kim's neck, looking over her shoulder and out the windows for the infamous Mexican chain restaurants.

Kim smiled more easily and giggled a bit as they headed into the blustery afternoon.

Later that evening, at the top of Sears Tower right in the heart of downtown, all was not as quiet as it could have been. The usual dramatic lighting shown up the twin television masts atop the glass and steel building, but there was also an unearthly blue glow rolling back and forth near the base.

"Remind me what this trans-cultural whosit does again anyways?" Shego was lounging on the fence around the observation deck, her long lean body clung to dangerously by a green and black unitard that showed off every dangerous curve like a second skin, yet flared at the collar and cuffs. For once she was not filing down the talons on her green and black gloves, she was just… waiting. Waiting for the cops to show, or GJ, or the FBI, or anyone…

"I've told you before Shego… the Trans-partical Vortex Recommbinator… It opens a rift in space time and allows us to view any point in history, or the future for that matter…"

Shego rolled her eyes languidly. Sure, it sounded good, but so had many of Dr. D's plans in the beginning. "What good is viewing? Why can't we like… fuck with the moon landing, or steal Tutankhamen's treasure?"

Drakken blinked. He was certain he'd never heard Shego use foul language before. After a moment considering her, he continued frowning with mild confusion. "Time Travel doesn't work that way Shego, if you change anything in the past, you don't have a future to return too… Heisenberg's Uncertainty…"

"Ahbububububu…" She held up one viciously clawed hand, making a very dangerous 'shushing' gesture. "I don't need the Nobel Prize committee thesis Dr. Dill Weed. Why do we have to be here then? Wouldn't this have worked just fine in our much safer… and warmer hideout?"

"Because," he began again, slowly and more irritably, "We have to be on the highest structure around, at precisely midnight in order to avoid any kind of harmful interference."

"You mean like us?" If heroic entrance music could have played at that precise moment, it would have, and proudly too. "Prepare to be interfered with."

Drakken paled… well that is to say he became a lighter shade of blue. Shego, for her part, looked over in stunned silence for a moment, a strange giddy feeling in her rising in her chest. There stood Kim Possible, her sidekick Ron Stoppable, and presumably the lump rolling about in one of his cargo pockets was the third member of the team, Rufus the naked mole rat. They were framed by the light of the elevator that had just deposited them on the observation deck, and looking pretty impressive.

The scene was straight out of an action comic book as Shego and Drakken took it in; the two heroes, now decidedly more muscular looking and purposeful then the last time either had seen them, crouched in fighting stances as the door closed behind them and they became front-lit by the observation deck lights. Kim's usual flowing red hair was tied back in a long braid with a heavy ring weighting it down at the end. Shego noted she filled out her purple tunic and tight black jeans much more suggestively than she had a few years ago. Obviously she'd been hitting the gym and not the twinkies. The doofus was looking pretty impressive too, she saw as she sized the pair up. She'd seen him on the TV a few weeks ago, but then he'd been hidden behind thick pads, not a form-fitting black turtleneck and cargo pants. He was pretty yoked up, and his hair was brushcut. She couldn't say much for the facial hair he was trying valiantly to grow though. He could even prove to be a minor hindrance this time

A slow, dangerous grin spread across Shego's lips as she leapt from the fence and crouched on the deck, in front of Drakken and his trans-coital whoesit. She flexed her fingers slowly, a faint clicking heard as the metal talons moved. A second later, a green miasma boiled up over the mismatched pair of green and black gloves. It wasn't exactly a flame, but it wasn't exactly like boiling liquid either. Whatever it was, it was deadly dangerous, and lit her already faintly green skin to a much more vibrant shade.

"Kim Possible! I thought you retired…" Drakken sputtered for a moment as he took in the visage from the past before him. He obviously was at a loss for any further masterful villainy quips, since he stood there in the light from his device and stared at the trio.

"Not retired Drakken, just too busy for washed up death-ray jockeys like you…" Kim's emerald eyes glinted as she grinned and watched him sputter even more at that, and listened to the way he made his thick black rubber gloves squeal as he ground and clenched his fists. Finally, "Shego! Do your job and get them for once!"

"Hey there Princess, long time no see!" Shego's opening volley in their historic tet'a'tet was pretty bland, but she was still a little bit in shock at seeing these two looking much more like real crime-fighters. She was also feeling a little bit excited at the thought of an actual challenge after so long. The excitement showed in her voice and her keen brown eyes as she crouched and flexed her fingers again.

"Ron, Stop Drakken from activating that thing, Director Du said it generates some pretty harsh radiation. Shego and I need a lil time for girl talk." Kim's eyes never left Shego's as she gave instructions, and her own grin matched her rival's. Shego saw the dweeb vault off to one side in a surprisingly adept display, but her focus never left the foe before her.

"Oooh, is he still your cute, dorky little lover? High-school sweethearts are so cute!" She laid it on saccharinely as she circled Kim. Without another moments notice a roiling green blast shot from one hand as she charged in, "But so last year!"

"What about you? Still working for Doctor Drakken? How ninties can you get?" Kim easily dodged the blast and charged equally, suddenly clasping her hands inside her taller foe's wrists and stopping her up cold.

"You're not still wearing that god-awful white suit under there are you?" Shego scowled at her redheaded nemesis as she was brought up short, surprisingly short in fact. Her eyes were still glinting with the excitement of fighting her only true equal once more, but they were hard now too, concentrating on the win.

"Nope, put that away a while ago, this is all me." Kim grinned as she struggled for dominance in the shoving match. Suddenly, she'd moved, and Shego's own shoving was rolling her forward at an alarming rate. Kim felt the thick boot in her opponent's gut satisfyingly as she catapulted Shego up and over her and towards the elevator door, away from Ron and Drakken.

"Gee Dr. D, you got old!" Ron blinked as he crouched in front of the device that was generating a spiraling blue vortex, just as its name implied. He wasn't in his old overly exaggerated monkey-fu pose, but was looking much more serious, lined up almost like a line backer and clenching his own fingers as he easily backed the blue-skinned scientist up with intimidation.

It was true, at least to Ron's eyes. Drakken was a little more hunched than usual, and the white streak in his hair was far more pronounced than it had been in San Francisco. His blue and black lab coat also seemed just a bit dingier than usual. His scar tugged at the edge of his face again as he scowled at Ron.

"Old! Why you little!" Drakken hissed and yanked a blaster out of one pocket. He fired off a blast that went harmlessly, almost comically wide of the mark and scorched a guard rail. Ron darted in and grabbed the blaster, forcing it down and right out of Drakken's hand. He heard it clatter over the edge of the building, and winced slightly as he remembered that they were 1,353 feet above the street.

"Careful Doctor… watch that first step now." Ron turned his own uneasiness on his opponent and inclined his head to where the blaster had just gone careening. Drakken though, made a mad dash right at Ron, and promptly began slapping at him with his gloved hands.

Sure, the heavy black latex stung a little, but come one… Ron gave the blue man one shot to the nose and he dropped like a sack of potatoes, more out of shock at being punched than in actual pain. Drakken looked up at Stoppable with wide eyes, clutching his face as a trickle of dark red wet the black of his gloves.

"You hit me!"

"Well yeah… Duh, you were slapping me… AND you were like, totally going to nuke Chicago. What's with that anyway?"

Drakken was about to retort haughtily, when he blinked again, still clutching his nose. "What do you mean, nuke Chicago?"

"Carrier to Pigeon Coop, fire on the roost… shall we proceed?" The taller of a pair of figures suited in dark blue were watching, from a nearby stealth helicopter, through some serious spotting scopes as they watched the flashes of blue and green blossoming on Sears Tower.

"Negative Carrier, The eggs aren't mature yet… hold position, and for god sakes, don't push that button."

The shorter man grunted as the radio clicked off. There was enough turbulence up here to cause them to simply bump the button. And why didn't they just blow it anyways, take out the two primaries, the secondary, and Drakken and that rat all at once, and leave no one the wiser?

The unmarked and nearly silent chopper hovered on then, watching, waiting for the word.

Shego, of course, landed on her feet, and launched another bolt of roiling, bubbling plasma at Kim. "Not bad Kimmie, and I love the hair-ring…"

She grinned and started circling Kim again, aiming to get between her and Drakken. She wasn't sure she wanted to take her on directly again without a better plan; that damned kick had hurt! Still, she had to close the distance and keep Kim occupied while Drakken did… whatever.

"Thanks, have you ever seen this before?" Kim's own grin was playful. She enjoyed the compliment, even as she whipped her head and sent the heavy metal ring attached to the end of her long braided hair right at Shego.

"Jesus Christ! How much does that thing weigh?" Shego just had time to duck her own head, glistening iridescent black hair flying as the silver ring sailed past her face in an arc that would otherwise have clocked her right in the temple.

"'Bout five pounds." Kim's head came back up and the braid and its appearently useful ring swung back to her, settling with a few pendulous swings behind her back.

Shego grinned, she had to respect anyone who would use their own hair as a weapon. She also knew that Kim wouldn't be swinging it around that much, for fear of ripping her own hair out along with a good chunk of her scalp.

"Kinky… bet Ron just loves it!" Her grin once again went from playful to intense as she launched a volley of blasts right at her foe's feet, wondering if she could still engage in her legendary acrobatics with that kind of weight swinging around.

"That's the second time tonight you've mentioned him. Jealous Shego?" Kim winked an emerald eye as she flipped backwards artfully, keeping perfect poise as she dodged every bolt. Shego scowled at how well Possible was moving tonight, and decided to change tactics again.

"Jealous? Of the Doofus? Oh please… he looks better than when you were in school, pumpkin, but he's still just a boy." She grinned as she stayed back this time, out of range of boot and ring. Normally banter like this was just to throw off the opponent, get them off balance; but with Kim it was different, she enjoyed trading barbs with the feisty redhead. Hell, the kid was cool, and had even helped Shego get rid of an interloper a few years ago. And now Possible was all grown up… It just made the game that much more interesting.

Still, there was a job to do, and she was being paid, after all, to stop Team Possible from stopping Drakken. Shego slashed her talons at the ground and watched the concrete ripple like a silk ribbon towards Kim.

"Oh that's right, you're turning thirty this year huh? Still, least you can still fill out your jumper, more than I can say for old Drakken over there." Kim vaulted up and over the rolling wave of rock and steel, and came down on her feet once more, breathing just a little harder now. This was fun... More workout than she'd gotten catching Killigan last month anyway.

"Oh, checking me out for more than my moves are we? I guess college really did open up your horizons!" And there it was! Kim's prudish little blush appeared as Shego finally hit a button. Shego used the momentary fluster in Kim's concentration and swung a hard kick at her. Purple clad arms rose up to meet a slender black clad leg, but there was a lot of force there, and Kim stumbled to one side before regaining her footing.

"Goodness Princess, can't admit your feelings for me, even after all these years together?" Shego's kicks continued, spin after spin drove Kim back and at the same time away from Drakken's device. Her eyes gleamed. She had thought Kim might beat her outright after the first two exchanges, but she was back now, and right above Kim Possible in combat, right where she was supposed to be.

Kim's grin had faded a bit when she lost her footing, and she was gritting her teeth, trying to find an opening. There was no time to chide herself right now, so she decided to try to push a few buttons right back.

"Yeah… I've got feelings for you Shego… Respect most of all." she said through clenched teeth as another kick tried to penetrate her defenses. Shego's expression was priceless, or would have been, had Kim had the time to stop and admire it.

Brown eyes were wide in mild shock even as Kim grabbed her ankle and spun her around like a discus. She barely even righted herself as her back hit the wall of the elevator. She got to her feet quickly though, and shook it off, also trying to shake off the surprise that had replaced the previous excitement in her core.

"Good one kiddo. You had me going." She dove in again, claws bared and shimmering, but definitely not giving off the maximum power she could.

Meanwhile nearer the machine.

"Will Du told KP that you were going to irradiate Chicago." Ron watched Drakken carefully as the older man rose to his feet again, but made no move to grab the controls or reach for another pocket.

"Why would I want to do that, I want to rule the world, not destroy it!"

"Dude, why would you want to? I have a hard enough time cleaning my apartment, let alone getting the Israelis and the Palestinians to stop killing each other!" Ron gave him an incredulous look. He just didn't get the world domination thing. But Drakken didn't usually try to outright kill people either, or make threats… it was usually more mundane stuff like turning Wisconsin to cheese. Something didn't add up here.

"Well, the machine's already on, so I guess I should be dead, huh?"

"See you buffoon! Its not a radiation bomb!" Ron's teeth clenched. He knew Drakken knew his name now, but that always ticked him off. He popped him again in the face with his fist. He and KP could sort out what to do about the machine later.

This time the blue mad scientist did drop out for good, and Ron grabbed his ankles, tugging him towards the elevator. When he had Draken there, he grabbed his own kimmunicator and headed back to the machine, briefly watching Kim appearently besting Shego.

"Wade, need your help buddy. Draken said his machine isn't a radiation bomb, so what in the name of all that's Diablo is it?" Even when he was speaking though, Ron's attention was drawn to the very center of the vortex, where there seemed to be a dark shape forming.

Claws slashed through air just inches from purple lycra as Kim ducked again. She grinned eagerly again, swiping back with her own fists, and decided to try to push the button again since she hadn't heard any explosions or heard Drakken screaming for mercy yet.

"What's the matter Shego, can't profess your feelings for me?" Once again, this caught Shego off guard. Was it more than just respect for someone else who could fight her to a stand still? She and Kim had been adversaries for years, but had they really been enemies in any of that time?

The fist in her gut didn't help clear her mind any. The elbow to the back of her neck shut off the argument and most others as she went down and didn't get up past her hands and knees.

Ron held his kimmunicator to the terminal as Wade tried to decipher Drakken's handiwork. Rufus scurried out of Ron's pocket and down his arm, standing on the machines controls and scratching his chin, trying to desipher them and pointing at one he thought important. Ron flipped it after considering for a moment and he portal brightened. Even as he did so, his eyes were drawn to the vortex's heart, and he saw a definite person-shaped blob there now, moving about. Then there was a second, shorter shape alongside the first, they seemed to be… struggling? Its left arm was lighter than the rest of it and it was swinging both arms violently at the firt, taller shape. Then a different human-shaped blob caught his eye, away from the Vortex.

"KP! Drakken!" He pointed with his free hand. Neither of them was less than forty feet from the scientist now, as Ron had dragged him out of the way. He had scurried over to his hover-car and climbed in by the time Ron pointed to him. How did that man manage to always wake up so quickly?

Within a second, the hover car had floated over and Shego had drunkenly jumped into it. It then quickly began to rise out of reach of Kim's clawing fingers.

"Pigeon Coop, Pigeon Coop, Two hatchlings learning to fly!" Once again the tall man had the radio in his hand.

"Fuck it!" The shorter man reached over and flipped the safety cover off of an angry red switch. He mashed his thumb down on it even as the confirmation to do so was coming back over the radio.

"Smash the nest, repeat, smash the nest…"

Author's Notes Continued: Well, since I used up most of this space in part one just giving insight into my process, here are backgrounds for parts 1 and two. Factoids if you will…

Yes, for those of you who don't know, there really is Arena football. Its played on a half-sized (read fifty yard long) indoor field where it is virtually impossible to step out of bounds, and players do frequently crowd-dive. It's backed by the NFL, and for a few years could bee seen on Tuesdays and Saturdays in April on NBC and MSNBC. (I moved the season to September to make it more in tune with the rest of part 1's autumn setting though) While the Upperton Skyhawks are obviously fictional, the Chicago Rush is the real 1a Arena league team for Chicago. I've been following Arena since Kurt Warner was the QB of our own (now moved to New York) Iowa Barnstormers in the mid 90's And scoring on the half-sized field does routinely hit the 40's and 50's point range.

The Peabody really is the cultural museum of Harvard University. (although I could find no pictures of it, so I gave it a generic flat industrial roof with skylights for a setting) I plan on going into details ( story permitting) about other school's KP went to during her two years out of Middelton High. High on the list of possibilities ( no pun intended in a story already full of them) are Tokyo University in Japan… Oxford in GB… and possibly a study program at the Lurve in Paris (DaVinci Code moments anyone?) any other Uni's would be appreciated, just remember, think global and high profile.

The Sears Tower Observation Deck in Chicago is adjacent to much of downtown, including Union Station and the Chicago Stock exchange. The height of the observation deck is 1,353 feet (412 meters) from the ground, and currently, Sears Tower has the highest sidewalk-mast measurement of any building in the world at a grand total of 1729 feet. Several buildings, including the new Freedom Tower, and Chicago Tower will surpass this in the next two-three years however.

I've had some thoughts about Ron's more aggressive demeanor in "The Darkness Without," But you really see him blossoming and becoming more confident in season for of KP, and I think between playing athletics and being on his own, that would only increase (don't worry, he's not going to turn into Jason Bourne or anything)

Obviously this is the cliff hangar, so more to come yet, hope it was enjoyed though, and hint hint would enjoy seeing some interpretations of the scene's I've tried to describe.


	3. Chapter 3

Kim Possible: The Darkness Without

Pt 3

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley, and without their strokes of brilliance, none of us would be reading anything like this, and absolutely no offense to their hard work, blood, sweat, and ink is intended. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT!

Less Boring and Still Important Stuff: This work is inspired by and based on the fan artwork and concept, "The Green Wraith" by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Two years after the fourth season of Kim Possible. KP and Ron have just stopped Shego from carrying out their latest plan and adding some angst to their lives, but was the TPVR (if you think I'm typing out that nonsense name any more than I have to, you're nuts) really what it was played up to be, by any party? Okay, this one starts out gruesome, and gets morose from there, so don't say you weren't warned.

Now, on with the Story...

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"Booh Yah! Chalk another one up for the good guys!" this time it was Kim spouting off Ron's favorite exclamation and grinning. She looked up at Drakken and Shego, who both looked worse for the ware, as their hover-car retreated towards the stratosphere, and waited for the typical retort as she moved towards Drakken's machine. She grinned as she caught sight of Rufus grabbing a souvenier and then darting back into Ron's cargo pocket.

Ron, for his part, took one more look at the vortex, where the taller figure seemed to have been joined by others in facing the shorter figure with the two-tone arms. There seemed to be more definition now too, the shorter figure had what looked like body armor on. There was a lot of green for some reason. Ron grumbled, though, as Rufus returned and flipped another switch, and vortex contracted, finally vanishing.

"Hey I was watching that!" he almost whined.

"hu-uh hu-uh bad news…" the mole-rat shook his head fervently.

"Oh… all right. KP, you coming?" Ron was headed for the elevator since there wasn't much more they could do.

Sure enough, as Kim turned and looked up, and just like clockwork came the usual parting words, "You think you're all that Kim Possible but you're-"

The next two seconds would be etched into the minds of the four survivors with stunning clarity. Three humans and one mole rat were transfixed by the blossom of orange and white that expanded from Drakken's machine. It seemed to move in slow motion, a living thing expanding in time lapse, reaching out with glowing tendrils and snatching everything in reach before flinging bits of flaming debris back out ahead of it.

One of the "everythings" in its path was a startled Kimberly Anne Possible.

Ron didn't see the most horrifying part of this beast's brief two second lifespan, and for that he would both thank and curse the fates. The blast blew him into the already opening elevator door and severed his consciousness even as he turned to see Kim silhouetted by the orange monster. Rufus, still nestled in his pocket, suffered the same consequence.

Drakken, piloting the hover car and spouting off his retort to the sky more than the people perched atop the building, also failed to see a large part of what happened in the next three quarters of a second.

Shego, having just hauled herself groggily up over the front bar of the hover-car, was witness to every gruesome detail. She couldn't say if it was through some cursed gift of her super-powers, or just the normal time dilatation of crisis that burned the images so clearly into her mind, but she too cursed them with her every breath.

Kim Possible, with her long red hair, her vibrant purple tunic, her black jeans, and even that ubiquitous blow-dryer grapple gun, was caught from the left by the beast of fire as it hatched from the machine. She'd just managed to turn her head to see what the sudden blossom of light was, and her arm was coming up instinctively to deflect what could not hope to be deflected.

In a gruesome moment that seemed a lifetime, Shego watched the fire latch on to her arm and, at the same moment, smash her entire body in the opposite direction. Transfixed brown eyes watched as the woman who had been fighting her with such precision just a moment before was slammed like a marionette with its strings cut in the blast wave of the explosion. Shego couldn't flinch in the fraction of a second that she was forced, by fate or biblically poor timing, to see Kim's head snapped to one side with hideous force, a blank look of surprise on her face even then.

The fireball fully engulfed her suspended body over the next two eternities, which encompassed perhaps another third of a second. Shego's eyes, heedless of her minds frantic screams to look away, followed the blossoming monstrosity as it filled and then surpassed the limits of the observation deck. The flame-beast, reaching the limits of its lifespan, began to grow dark and angry at its outer edges, withering and dying like a neglected garden.

"Kim!" came the half-choked scream from her throat finally. Time started moving once again as if on cue. Immediately following the orange beast, a crackling blue beast of flame expanded out from the center of the maelstrom. This one moved with the speed explosions were generally supposed to, and obliterated its orange predecessor's remnants. The green-clad mercenary could only watch as the giant TV antennas were bent hideously aside in the same manner her rival's body had been, but remained fixed to the top of the tower. Smaller shards of shrapnel sprung up, but were seemingly consumed by the blue wave before it too dissipated.

Shego didn't notice the hover-car lurching upwards violently, or Drakken's attempts to right it. She didn't notice the stench of burned glass and metal on the air that singed at her nostrils bitterly. She also completely failed to notice the black helicopter they only narrowly missed as it too was buffeted.

It was a good ten minutes before Shego noticed anything at all in fact. By that time, the hover-car had covered several dozen miles and Drakken was verbally berating it and its lineage if only it would go faster. She slowly turned her head, black hair frazzled from the fight and now the flight, and began to make out the blue shape responsible. Finally, all she saw was red.

"YOU!!!"

-Five hours after the death of Kim Possible-

A black suburban pulled up into the driveway of the still awakening Possible household in the suburb that was Middleton, California. Twenty minutes later it left, and the household wished it had never awoken, or that it had yet to awaken and this was all a horribly unfair dream. Screams and sobs echoed through the cul-de-sac all of that day and into the next.

-Seven hours after the death of Kim Possible-

Brick Flagg, along with the rest of the world, watched what seemed to be another 9-11 unfold on the news cycles. He'd been to the Arena early that morning to do warm-ups, and had yet to hear anything other than the CD's in his car before now. The overnight security guard had pointed him in the direction of the smoking tower a few miles to the east of the Arena, and then let him in. No one should be alone on days like this.

"Early reports are very sketchy at this point." The current commentator went on from somewhere in the downtown metro,

"One survivor was pulled from the area below the Observation Deck in the early morning hours. Unconfirmed reports are that the survivor is Ron Stoppable, running back for the Rush, and partner to Kim Possible. The Department of Homeland Security, in a news conference earlier this morning, confirmed that Miss Possible herself had been investigating the tower during the evening hours. DHS is thankful the timing of the attack, near midnight Central Standard Time, had the tower nearly empty; and the limited number of people on the streets below prevented horrific casualties like those of the WTC attacks several years ago. Further reports of at least two aircraft over the tower at the time of the blast have yet to be confirmed…"

The news repeated like that for several hours, but most had tuned it out after the first cycle.

-Three days after the death of Kim Possible-

"Ronald, we all understand that you're still very tired. But you have to tell us what happened to set off the explosion." Ron didn't know who was speaking exactly. The bandages over most of his face prevented him from seeing anything more than gray blurs that talked too loudly.

After a few moments, he pointed to the picture of Drakken which he was shown, and shook his head. He did the same to the picture of Shego, his hands bandaged into unidentifiable white packages. He was shown a few other pictures, still tiredly shaking his head at each as he pointed. When he was shown the last picture though, he had to be sedated; and the General and his staff were asked to leave. They took all the pictures with them, including the crumpled picture of a girl with red hair.

-Seven days after the death of Kim Possible-

"Well, whoever had him beat the hell out of him… and then they did it again with a lead pipe… and then again with something I don't even want to think about. It looks as though the skin was burned off of his back before all of that however, in eight vertical strips… Simply hideous."

"Thank you Doctor… Please, let us know if he can be woken up any time soon."

"Oh, I doubt that… he'll be on morphine for the rest of his life if he ever does wake up… Frankly, I hope to god he doesn't."

The lights were shut off, and the doctor, the General, and the Global Justice agent left the room, next to the door was a sign that had read John Doe. That had been scratched out, and below that was another label that read Drew Lipsky.

-Eleven days after the death of Kim Possible-

_"The Presidential Medal of Freedom was today awarded to Kim Possible, posthumously. This is added to the French Legion, the Star of Indus, and numerous other awards given already, or planned for the fallen hero. Additional ceremonies are planned leading up to the state funeral, and there will be a private ceremony held Saturday following the…" The channel was changed by a shaking hand._

_"…and no body was recovered from the damaged tower. Although traces of DNA indicate strongly that the mysterious explosion and its radiation killed Miss Possible, and it would have proven fatal to anyone immediately near it…"_

The flat screen exploded in a blast of green and black plasma. It was followed rapidly by the remote, the stereo, the couch, and eventually two walls. When the fire department arrived on scene minutes later, they were perplexed to find any cause of the spontaneous combustion of the high-rise apartment.

-Six Months after the death of Kim Possible-

_Dateline: Washington DC_

_The Department of Homeland Security today, in conjunction with a previously little-known independent group, Global Justice, released its preliminary findings on The Sears Tower Detonation. The blast that claimed the life of Kim Possible has been ruled officially to be the work of rogue criminal elements of a thus far unknown origin. No particular group or individual has taken credit for the blast, which was initially reported to be linked to terrorist activities. Drew Lipsky, AKA Dr. Drakken, had been suspected, but was later found badly beaten in an unrelated incident and has since been cleared. The whereabouts of his long-time accomplice Kelly Sheba Go, AKA Shego, are still unknown._

_Reports of two aircraft circling the tower at the time of the late-night blast have never been confirmed, and radar and air traffic control reports show no unusual traffic patterns over Chicago surrounding the time of the blast._

The newspaper was crumpled in a tan, leathery hand and hurled into the fireplace. The voice of an older man, speaking with a rich Spanish accent, and choked with tears oddly enough, cursed anyone so dishonorable as to use a bomb to kill their foe. For once, the slightly higher-pitched voice that followed his agreed completely.

-Eight months after the death of Kim Possible-

"I don't care if you don't have any leads! I want Shego! She's taken out three of our best people in as many weeks. We're not going to get enforcement approval from DHS if we can't even catch one damned woman who used to be a member of Team Go!" There was a pause as he listed irritably to the phone.

"Fine, bring them in then."

"I don't care, just lodge it under the SSCA, we'll handle the paperwork later."

After a few moments more for the caller to cool off, the receiver was picked up again and another number was dialed. "Get me Director Du."

-Eight Months and two days after the death of Kim Possible-

_Dateline: Go City_

_Team GO, the heroes of Go City, today turned themselves in to Global Justice on a warrant pertaining to the Super Science Control Act. SSCA, passed in the weeks following the Sears Tower Detonation, is intended to control the access of any civilian group or individual to "Technological, medical, or material means of causing mass destruction." _

_While the exact nature of the sealed warrant is still unknown, it is widely believed that it is related to Shego, the former female member of Team Go, who turned to crime and had long been an antagonist of Kim Possible. The group had had their powers bestowed upon them by a meteor storm some twenty years ago. _

_With laws similar to SSCA passed in many nations around the globe, the stock of Global Justice has been rising since the revelation of its existence six months ago. The independent body is specifically sited in many of these…_

"That's going to piss her off… She may not like her family, but she still loves them." There was a series of horrendous coughs, and the newspaper was temporarily discarded in a paroxysm of pain.

"Easy Miss Smith… your lungs sustained a lot of scarring during your…" The nurse tried to fish for any term to use, since no one on the ward had been told how the young woman had been so critically injured… In fact, she'd only been awake for a week now.

One green eye glared at the nurse, daring her to say 'accident' as Sarah Smith gritted her teeth and allowed the dressing to be changed. After a moment, the nurse simply relented and tended to the thickly bandaged stump that had once been her left arm. Miss Smith growled and gripped the arm of her bed in pain as the bloody dressings were removed, and new ones were applied. The nurses left after a few moments, and once they were out of earshot of the woman's uncannily keen hearing, began their usual discussions.

"Well, I heard they found her in a van, and she'd been gang-raped and set on fire…" one particularly catty nurse began. She was quickly shushed by the others, who knew that anyone who had a grip as strong as that woman's was after eight months in a coma was not likely to be gang-anything.

"I guess they found her without the arm, it's a miracle she didn't bleed out." One of the slightly more politic nurses continued. "…why the stitches haven't healed after eight months is beyond me though."

"You know… I don't understand how she stands the pain; she won't let them get any where near her with the zexapril. If she'd only take a shot a few times a day, maybe she wouldn't be grinding her teeth or have that ulcer."

"I guess one of the Doctors actually caught her digging at the stump." A younger nurse shuddered as she recited the latest. "…not just picking at it; actually… well… is it self-mutilation? Anyways, they restrained her. Somehow, with only one arm, which was bound, she got completely free and wandered down for coffee." The duty nurse nodded. This last gossip item, at least, was true.

"…and what about the way she is with the news? I swear I took copies of the times, London AND New York, the Post, the Gazette, Go City Journal, and Jefferson County Examiner out of her room the last two days; and when its not those, it's the damned news channel on the satellite. I guess if I'd been asleep for eight months, I'd be a little concerned with current events too, but she's just spooky."

"That's nothing; you know she speaks at least French and German? Fluently. She was watching a news break on Univision without even blinking too." A few of the nurses nodded. They'd seen such linguistic feats also.

"Well, however the hell she got to JCCH, she'll have to be discharged soon. Family or no, she can't convalesce here forever. The state will put her in a long term care facility until they find some relatives I guess…" There was some sadness here, as none of the nurses, even the catty one, wanted anyone stuck in a state home.

"You know, it's a shame about her hair… I'll bet it was just beautiful before… before whatever… its such a bright red. You'd think someone would notice that our Jane Doe has about the rarest hair color around. Can't be that many missing people with hair like hers?" This was the second nurse again, the discussion having made its round in the small group. "Why, I'd say its even brighter than those shots of Kim Possible in Time last month."

There was a horrendous crash from the vicinity of Miss Smith's room, loud enough to be heard all the way down the halls of Jefferson County Community Hospital. When the duty nurse entered, she found the remains of an Illinois tourism cup and its formerly hot coffee spattered across the wall. The wall in question though, was a good forty feet away, across the hall, and into the day room of the small hospital. She eyed Miss Smith, as she preferred to be called over Jane Doe…

Miss Smith's one piercing green eye challenged her keeper in return. And nothing was said… that was, until the train rattled by the small station just outside, and the sobbing started again as it did every time that train went by.

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Author's notes additional: Didn't I warn you things would get dark? You've not seen anything yet… Hope I didn't cram in too many interludes of the days and weeks after the explosion. But I felt short little snippets would be more effective, from a story telling point of view, that long chapters from each of those times, or to just gloss over them entirely.

Shego's name… a bone of great contention I suppose. I figure, she wasn't born a super powered crime-fighter or villain, so she must have had a Christian name at some time. Sheba seemed to both fit her name scheme, and be the kind of haughty regal type of name she'd just love to have anyways.

Shego's eyes… I know in most of the series they are portrayed as green, like Kim's… but take it from someone with a weakness for pretty eyes… green eyes are just not that common.. So I figured they could be brown… artistic license, probably the only such license I'll employ, but what the hey?

Okay, so I didn't exactly hide who the resident, badly scarred redhead Miss Smith is, did I? but anyone who followed the link at the top of part number one of "The Darkness Without" has a pretty damned good idea anyways. So, the question is, how would you feel if you woke up after the better part of a year, horribly disfigured, in a world where no one recognized you and the world thought you were dead?

Zexapril pain killer? Just a name I pulled out of my butt... Don't go asking your pharmacist about it.

JCCH is not a real facility, although the little old hospital is set in the very real western Illinois county, and is based on a few older small town hospitals and care facilities that I am familiar with, you'll be seeing it again, don't worry.

And seriously, I'm sorry if anyone is offended by the allusions to September 11th, the patriot act, and other items I listed here… I know I didn't personally lose anyone in the attacks (although I came close, my best friend and his father both worked in the towers frequently as PC techs) But I felt that tonally, it was right for the piece.


	4. Chapter 4

Kim Possible: The Darkness Without

Pt 4

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley, and without their strokes of brilliance, none of us would be reading anything like this, and absolutely no offense to their hard work, blood, sweat, and ink is intended. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT!

Less Boring and Still Important Stuff: This work is inspired by and based on the fan artwork and concept, "The Green Wraith" by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: More than two years after the fourth season of Kim Possible. Kim Possible is dead. How will the rest of Team Possible go on?

Now, on with the Story...

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There were ceremonies. There'd been a lot of ceremonies. There were speeches… There were always speeches. He was asked to speak, as always he declined. The black granite slab with the bronze plaque on it was nice though, he thought… She would have hated the statue they'd wanted to put up instead.

Finally, when everyone else had left the observation deck, he sighed heavily and yanked at the tie that felt uncomfortably heavy on his neck.

Ron felt a rustling in his pocket and looked down as the hip pocket of the suit popped open and a little pink head popped out. Little black eyes were teary, and he handed Rufus the handkerchief he'd been dabbing his own eyes with throughout the evening. After a few more moments caressing the relief of KP's face on the granite monument, Ron sat heavily down into one of the folding chairs, and let Monique go to pay her respects.

He rubbed his calves a bit as he sighed… He was regretting climbing all one hundred and two stories, even in sneakers, but he'd taken one look at those silver elevator doors and nearly wet himself. Everyone understood, and the entire ceremony had been delayed thirty minutes for him to climb to the newly rebuilt 102nd floor observation deck.

Ron felt Rufus wiggling in his pocket, and pulled his little mole rat out, setting him up onto his shoulder.

"I know little buddy… I miss her too. Hard to believe it's been a year huh?" Rufus nodded, and tried to stay balanced as he dabbed his eyes yet again with the large handkerchief clutched in his good hand. He slowly made his way down Ron's lapel and loped off towards the buffet that had been left for the few honored guests after the memorial proper had broken up and the dignitaries departed. Poor little guy just didn't scurry as well with a half-paralyzed arm and permanent nerve damage…

Ron had balked at having Rufus put down. None of the veterinary staff said anything could be done for the rare rodent who had been crushed under him while hiding in his pocket that night. Thankfully, a zoologist who dealt specifically with rare subterranean predators had finally come forward, and his little buddy had been sewn up as best as anyone could have hoped.

"Ron… We're so glad you could be here today." A warm hand rested on his shoulder and he turned to look up at the faces of John and Anne Possible. He smiled back and squeezed Kim's mother's hand, and got up to turn and speak with them despite the burning in his thighs.

"Its no big Mr. P, Mrs. P. How are the boys?"

"They're well enough… finishing up school. They just…" Mrs Dr. Possible's lower lip quivered just a bit, and she obviously struggled to compose herself. "Ron they loved Kim so much, but they just couldn't stand to be here…"

He nodded and gave his best friend's mother a gentle hug. He'd agonized for days before deciding to make the trip back to Chicago. Of course, unlike the Dr.s' Possible, he didn't have a huge stipend from the government to pay his expenses. He had been offered obscene amounts of cash to write his memoirs, do talk-shows, speaking tours, etc… but he'd turned them all away… He didn't see fit to live off of Kim's ghost, and he was way too young, he thought, to be writing memoires anyway.

After a few silent moments, Monique had come back to the small knot of people, smiling warmly, despite the tears in her caramel eyes. "Oh Mrs. Possible, I think Kim would understand. At least they didn't put up that G.A.S. Now that really would have made her spin in her…"

She stopped, not finishing the awkward gallows humor. No one really wanted to think about the empty grave back in California. After a moment, Ron broke the pregnant silence.

"G.A.S.?"

"God Awful Statue. Honestly, its like they've all already forgotten how humble Kim was." She bit her own lip slightly as everyone nodded in agreement with her.

"Really. I mean… Come on.." Wade stuttered after a bit of silence. He'd been doing that a lot lately Ron noticed. He also noticed the small spare tire that was not-so-well hidden under Wade's jacket. He stared wondering if what Monique had said was true; that he'd spent the last three weeks locked in his room replaying all his old kimmunicator logs over and over. Ron didn't think Wade was that down, but then again, he was looking and acting more like the old Wade lately.

Almost an hour later, after everyone had reluctantly paid their respects to the effigy of their fallen daughter and friend, they were still sitting in the enclosed observation deck talking, now remembering some of the better times, and sharing news.

"I hope I look as good as you do when I'm three months along and forced to fly 3,000 miles Misses P." Monique smiled warmly, her folding chair turned backwards as she straddled it. Her black Capri's strained against the motion, being dress pants and not meant to be so casually strutted about in.

"You're so sweet Monique… but you look great… what is it your doing again these days dear?" Anne self-consciously covered her faintly swollen belly with one hand as John smiled in the way only an expectant father could.

Monique shifted in a way Ron found to be a bit suspicious, but he let it go as she responded smoothly. "I'm working as a fashion designer. I get to live in Middleton and commute all over the world, It's way beyond!"

"Well, you always did have a fabulous eye Monique." Mrs. Possible, the retired brain surgeon smiled warmly again.

Ron had to agree. Despite the formal occasion, Monique's fun capri's and rose colored shirt with its frills at the cuffs were a breath of fresh air among all the suits and gowns. They were obviously expensive too, which is probably why they didn't raise as many eyebrows as one would have thought.

"And speaking of three months along," John kissed his wife on the cheek and squeezed her hand, "I think we'd better be getting back to the hotel. Its been a long night and its going to be a long morning tomorrow packing and catching out return flight."

Hugs were exchanged, along with phone numbers and email addresses and promises to keep in touch.

"Hey Ron…"

"Yeah Monique?"

"You want to grab some drinks? Its been a while since I've been in Chicago, and I think KP deserves to be toasted."

"Sure! Hey Wade, you in?" he turned to look, but Wade was already in the elevator with the retired surgeon and the semi-retired rocket scientist. The techy shook his head glumly as the doors closed.

"Doesn't matter, he's only seventeen, remember?" Monique chided him gently. "Besides, I think he's probably on his way back to that damned laptop. Old habits die hard you know."

Ron and Monique headed for the fire door, without his even asking her if it would be okay to again avoid the elevator.

After a few minutes of silence in the subdued lighting of the observation deck, the fire door opened again. A security camera was turned just a bit to one side so it could no longer focus on the center of the room.

A shadow fell across the stone panel set into the wall, and a set of fingers settled onto the burnished relief laid into the bronze plaque. The fingers were long and slender, and tipped with metallic green nails, each one filed to fine points.

"Hey Princess, its been a while." The voice was soft, quiet, even respectful. Shego wasn't smiling with her lips, but there was a sad sort of smile in her eyes. After a moment, she removed her hand from the outline of Kim's cheek and tugged at the pocket of her long, deep green alligator-skin trench coat.

"Doctor D says hi… or he would if he could chew solid foods yet…" she smirked a bit, wondering if Kim would enjoy knowing that her inept nemesis was finally out of commission. The smirk faded a bit when an inner voice that sounded suspiciously like a certain cheerleader's reminded her who had put him there, and how; and most importantly, that it was for the wrong reason.

'…and there's a part here that I don't remember installing…' Those words, in the voice that grated on her nerves to this day, drifted through her mind as unbidden. She didn't feel guilty about turning Drakken in.. if you could call leaving him on the doorstep of a hospital turning him in. She certainly didn't feel guilty about the condition he was in. He hadn't planted that particular bomb, but he'd tried to hurt Kimmie so many other times… and he'd grated on her own nerves. Oh how he had!

"Did a lot of searching while you were away… think I found the bastards who set us up." She winced slightly as the memory of an orange fireball came unwelcome into her mind. She bit her darkly painted lower lip until the moment passed.

After a moment of shaking, the hand fishing about in the deep pocket of her trench coat was brought back under control as well, and fished out what it had been searching for.

"Here you go kiddo, a souvenir. The first of many I'm hoping." After long pause, Shego made her way back to the fire exit, long coat swishing theatrically in an imaginary wind. The doofus and the dark skinned girl were right, she thought… Drinks did sound good tonight, so did dancing, and loud music…surely there would be a club open, even on Kim Possible Day.

She paused and looked back at the memorial from the door, and the small fabric patch she'd stuffed into one corner between the bronze and granite. It was dark blue and one edge was ragged and stained brown with dried blood. The words Global Justice Enforcement were clearly visible despite the singed condition of the badge.

'Oh yes,' she thought to herself as she let the heavy door close behind her, 'the first of many, many to come.'

---

The mansion was lovely. The staff was very polite to her. She was civil to them, in deference to her elderly host. The bed was luxurious, and the satin sheets were fabulously comforting and cool on scarred and thickened skin.

Yet, she still thrashed about, as she did every night. Sleep always came to Sara Smith, her body weary of another day of training, forcing atrophied muscle and scarred lungs to do things that they weren't entirely ready for. Sleep was an unwelcome visitor, though, because of the baggage it brought. Nightmares came and went, and she thrashed violently trough all of them. At least there weren't any trains here to keep waking her up.

---One year earlier, the night Kim Possible died---

Kim could taste copper. It was all she could taste and smell, in fact. It was harsh, and she knew it was from a wound on her face. She couldn't hear anything, save for a tinny ringing that refused to go away.

She was hanging from her grapple-dryer, but she had no idea why. Nor where for that matter, except that there was a lot of wind. For some reason she couldn't see that well. Must be blood in her eyes, she thought. Her forehead must be cut. It'd happened before… and it always bled a lot.

She needed to move, she was still in trouble. They could be coming back any second. Whoever blew up that machine must be coming back!

She reached for the kimmunicator in her hip-pouch. It didn't appear. She blinked and reached for it again. God it hurt to blink!

Still, the smart phone didn't appear. She flipped the switch under her thumb, and began lowering towards what must be the ground. She couldn't really tell, except that it was that big dark patch with no lights around it.

She tried again to reach for the kimmunicator for help. Wade could get her a ride out. It stubbornly persisted in not appearing before her eyes. She grumbled and tried to wipe the blood out of them. That too, failed. Something was very wrong, a part of her brain said.

Kim ignored that part, because it only ever said the obvious. She finally felt the ground under her boots and pushed the retrieve switch on the grapple-dryer. She didn't hear it winding up. Damn why wouldn't the ringing stop already? Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she felt the hook click up against its body. She dropped it onto its handy hook on her left hip. She didn't hear it hit the asphalt and then bounce over the edge of the roof and into oblivion because there was no loop for it on her pant any longer.

Once again she tried to pull out her kimmunicator. Once again it persisted in its absence. She looked down as she made her way to some kind of glass door. Through the red haze that she was insistently trying to wipe away, she saw that her pants had been torn away on that side, no pouch, no kimmunicator. 'Darn… I can't afford to keep buying jeans like this.'

That obvious part of her brain again tried to tell her something was wrong. It insisted that her hip should not be red and black like that. She ignored it.

The glass door, which she could barely make out, refused to open for her. She pounded on it with both fists, and it finally gave way, shattering inwards. She jogged quickly through the office, and got into the first elevator she could find. Ron had to be down the tower by now; he was already in the elevator when…

Her obvious-voice again demanded attention. It wanted to know why the glass had taken twice as long to shatter as it should have. Another part of her mind told it to shut up, it wasn't important.

Kim hurt all over, and finally managed to clear her eyes just a little. She still saw a huge white spot in the center of her vision though. She banged the proper buttons to get her down. They didn't seem to be working. She reached over and banged the buttons on the right-hand panel instead. This time the lift moved. She wondered why she couldn't hear the fire alarms, even over the ringing in her ears.

She got to the bottom of the tower finally, and headed to the street. A brief question ran through her mind s she headed out into the street; why was the carpet in that elevator red, when none of the others was? No one was aroundon the street either. That was odd. She looked up. She saw the antenna leaning.

'Darn, that's why no one's around, better move!' this time she listened to the obvious voice. Down the block, and to the right. Train yard! Bingo. Ron should be right behind her, if he hadn't got there already. She reached for her grapple-dryer, since being down there would be safer if the tower fell.

The grapple-dryer also didn't materialize. She looked at her right hip, dam, it wasn't there. Must have fallen off while she was running. Oh well, wasn't that far to jump, only thirty feet. She was up and over the fence, and falling gracefully.

Kim hit the ground and rolled, using her hands to carry her momentum. Somehow she ended up on her side instead of her feet.

'that's not right, something is very wrong!' came the obvious-voice again.

'shut up, need to hide somewhere. The tower could collapse, or whoever was in that black copter could come back.'

'what black helicopter?'

The obvious voice and the tactics voice were arguing now. She looked to her left. She looked to her right and found a train. Amtrak. She crawled into an open maintenance hatch and pulled it shut behind her. She should be hearing police sirens now… too much noise from the trains, too much ringing in her ears. She was safe for a moment though. Ron could find her pretty quickly the kimmunicator.

'its gone, dropped, remember?'

'Fine… okay, inventory…'

She looked down her right… Darn, she was a mess; pouch was missing, she was dirty… her purple tunic was nearly black, and where it wasn't crisp and smelling of sulfur, it was soaking wet with water from the tower's fire sprinklers. At least she still had her boots.

She felt tired too, and cold… of course she was tired! Look at all she'd done tonight. And she was wet with whatever was all over her tunic. No wonder she was cold. It was October in Chicago!

'That run would have been a bitch in bare feet.'

'language kimmie…' the subconscious voice of her mother chided her for even thinking such words.

She tried to look down her left side. Damn this little locker was awkward. She turned her head further, and was finally able to see a little of her right leg. Damn she hurt. Her hip was still red and black. That was going to be a bad scar. Wait, why could she see her hip? She managed to turn her head more, but it was very painful, she tried to use her arm to pull herself around a bit.

'oh god, that wasn't right! Shit that hurt!'

'language...'

She felt sick, and shook her head. Her vision had gone red again, and there really wasn't much light in here. She tried to pull the hair out of her face, touching her left temple, why did it feel like that? Without warning she retched, and was disgusted when the black, grainy vomit covered her chest.

'that's not supposed to look like that.. doesn't that mean something's wrong inside?'

She finally managed to turn a bit more and get a view of her left side.

Was the door open, she couldn't see her hand? It must be sticking out. She tried to pull it in, needed to stay hidden. And where was Ron, why couldn't she here the police or the fire trucks by now?

'Its. Not. There.' obvious voice finally made itself known forcefully.

'of course its there! this is just a really camped locker. with red walls. and really weird streaked red paint?'

'oh god!'

'oh god no!'

'OH GOD WHERE IS MY ARM?!'

She vomited grainy black bile again all over the little locker, crying and retching. After several long moments, the screams didn't come… She thought she'd should be screaming. She wasn't.

She was just so cold... at least the pain wasn't so bad.

'that's shock.' Said one cold part of her mind after what seemed like a long time.

'help isn't coming.'

'…'

'I'm vomiting blood… that's what that is.' Said another after she had gagged and coughed herself completely into one corner of the locker.

'I'm going to die aren't I?'

'…'

'yes, I am.'

'…'

'I guess this is what happens when you try to help people, eventually, huh?'

'…'

'…'

'I guess it is… I'll miss everyone. At least things won't be so tiring now.'

The bloodied and burnt form of Kim Possible finally stilled, not having strength to retch, or cough, or struggle. One by one, the parts of her brain that had been discussing her predicament went quiet.

Six hours later screaming finally came. It didn't come from the body in the access locker, but from the woman who found it, and saw it turn over and stare at her with one green eye burning from the bloodied, charred face and matted, burned red hair framing it.

---Eight months after the death of Kim Possible---

'why am I hurting? dead people don't hurt.'

" around Doctor."

'who was that? I'm dead, I'm not supposed to be heaing people.'

'shit I hurt… at lease the ringing stopped.'

"Miss… can you hear me?"

Who was talking? She was looking up at a blurry room that was coming into focus slowly. She didn't see anyone standing over her though… but there as a shadow across her chest.

Parts of her brain started connecting. One part… that damned annoying obvious part, reminded her that her left arm was missing, and so, apparently, was her left eye since she couldn't feel it blinking when the other one did. Another part told her that she was in a hospital bed, in a dressing gown. She'd been in this situation many times. But she hadn't been dead before.

"Miss… can you hear me? When you came in, you're eardrums were blown out… tell me if you can here me?"

'I wish he'd shut up… I'm dead! Go away!'

She turned her head, and glared up at the doctor when he finally came round into view. "Yeah, I can hear you just fine. You couldn't stand over here where I could see you?"

"Sorry about that…" The doctor smiled at her and came around. He shined a light in her eye, took it away, shined it again.

"Damnit! Would you mind not blinding me?"

"Sorry… Do you know where you are?"

"…off hand, I'm guessing a hospital."

"Very good. Do you know where?"

"Sitting next to an idiot. Next question."

"and people complain about my bedside manner." The doctor smiled and wondered if she was so abrasive usually. "Okay, do you know what year it is?"

After her answer, it was confirmed that she was indeed dead. Living people didn't take eight month naps and wake up cranky in hospital beds.

'okay, I'm dead… where to next?' She thought to herself. Ironically, the next question the doctor asked her gave her the answer.

"And, could you tell us who you are?"

"I… I don't know…" If she was dead, she thought, she'd just have to be someone else; someone who didn't get killed helping people. 'What a joke that was!' she thought.

"Well, Jane Doe…" The conversation went on, and she was told about her injuries. She didn't cry, and they seemed surprised by this. They told her she had breathing trouble, and that because of this, she might be brain damaged. They didn't know how long she had been unconscious when they had found her in a maintenance panel filled with diesel fumes on a cross country train called California Zephyr.

'I'm not brain damaged,' she thought. She knew how she'd gotten into that box. She could remember everything. Of course she wasn't brain damaged. In fact, she was an entirely new person… the girl in the train's locker was the one who had died. She was the one with brain damage, trying to save the world…

"Jane doe… I don't like that, couldn't I be Sara Smith? Yeah, call me Miss Smith."

Author's notes: Okay, I bet this passage was pretty confusing… I wanted to describe what happens when a person is in shock. Obviously though, when a person is in shock, normal thinking doesn't go on. So, the question is, is Kim Possible dead? Metaphorically speaking?

The gruesome details about what happens to Kim in the maintenance hatch is fairly accurate. When a person has internal bleeding, blood seeps into the stomache, where it congeals and is then vomited up. (gross I know) Victims of blasts often die from concussion waves from a bomb. People will seem to walk away without a scratch, only to die later. Its called "the white butterfly" for the way massive internal hemoraging appears on X-rays. Kim seems to have escaped the worst of this. Obviousl her eardrums got ruptured, hence the tinitis (ringing of the ears) and not being able t hear the emergency responders.

And in shock, a mind can simply compartmentalize things it doesn't want to deal with, which is why kim kept trying to reach for her kimmunicator (god that's long and annoying to type), wipe her eyes, and grab things with her missing left arm. Her brain didn't want her to know it was missing. The eye thing… well your brain fills in things it thinks should be in its field of vision, Kim simply didn't realize that she was not seeing anything out the left side of her head. Of course when you're in shock, you tend not to feel pain, or at least not acutely.

On the less boring and gruesome sides.. Calafornia Zephyr is the wonderful Amtrak train that runs from Chicago, through Omaha and Denver, before terminating in San Francisco. I've been a passenger several times… though never in the maintenance access hatches that line the bottom of the dining and observation cars. Union Station is downtown, less than two blocks from the base of Sears Tower… so a stunned Kim could easily get to it and drop into the rail yard before it dives down under the Union Station building.

And yes, I left the Sears Tower standing, though knocked at least one story off the top post-blast. And every year, there is a charity "stair climb" where idiots, I mean people, climb all 103 stories in the fire escapes. So Ron, while probably well winded after doing this, could have done it without a huge problem. As, apparently, could the stealthy Shego paying her respects.


	5. Chapter 5

Kim Possible: The Darkness Without

Pt 5

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley, and without their strokes of brilliance, none of us would be reading anything like this, and absolutely no offense to their hard work, blood, sweat, and ink is intended. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT!

Less Boring and Still Important Stuff: This work is inspired by and based on the fan artwork and concept, "The Green Wraith" by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: two-three years after Kim Possible's graduation. Kim is dead, the rest of Team Possible are scattered… Now a new threat appears, but with no one to "deal with the sitch" what will happen?

Now, on with the Story...

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Sara woke up, sat up in the massive bed, and stretched her arm high above her head. After a deep yawn, and the usual frown that accompanied the return of consciousness and its aches, she scrubbed a hand over her face. Turning, she placed her feet delicately on the hardwood floor, and winced as she found the flooring cold in the November morning's chill.

Padding slowly, almost stiffly to the edge of the generous room, she clicked on the switch on the brewmaster, and inhaled deeply as the heady scent of some of the darkest coffee this side of the amazon began to fill the carafe. She was genuinely grateful for few things, taking it as given that someone with her skills deserved and should receive the finest things in life. Coffee, however, was the gift from a benevolent god that kept her going.

She'd been free of that damned hospital now for nearly a month, and the weak swill they passed off as caffeine was gladly forgotten. When she'd found herself a patron on one of the more clandestine message boards, it was her one major stipulation that she be well supplied with java.

That had been the easy part… Convincing her patron that a near-invalid who Social Security said didn't even exist that she was worth the trouble of extricating was difficult… Miss Sara Smith had traded on the one resource she still had immediately at her disposal. The knowledge of a certain laser grid, and how to shut it off to access a rare set of stuffed toys worth millions had gained her her freedom, as well as a few weeks of recuperation time in a well-appointed summerhouse on a small island off of California. Other tidbits had been traded in the following days to shore up her status as a valuable informant. Information on a robotic manufacturing plant in Tokyo in particular had garnered a good amount of operating capital for her.

In some ways this small villa reminded her of another privately held island, except that there were no spinning death-tops, nor were there lasers or other traps. Those were problems left to someone else… for the time being at least… that island did hold a lot of valuable things she might want to sell later.

She made her way to the master bath, and assessed her post-somnolent appearance. Her short cropped carrot-red hair was bent to one side of her face, and she growled as it only served to draw her eye to the angry flat of thickened skin that had once been her left eye. She rubbed her face irritably and debated how much she could afford to spare at this early venture for reconstructive work.

A few minutes in a hot shower rejuvenated her enough to face the day ahead. Once she'd tugged on a pair of skin tight black slacks, 'now there's an oxymoron' she thought… and donned a flowing crimson blouse that helped hide a tracery of fine scars on her torso, she pulled on the black satin eye patch that hid most of the ugly wound on her face.

She paused to assess herself in the full length dressing mirror and frowned. She was still very slender, despite three weeks of near constant physical training. And then there was the matter of the pinned-up left sleeve of her blouses and her fatigues. Fortunately, she wouldn't have to deal with pinning up the sleeves of her clothing much longer.

In any event, there wouldn't be time for training today. Too many things would be happening that required her attention. She closed the wardrobe door that held expensive clothing on one side, and three sets of black spandex bodysuits on the other.

The first was awaiting her when she descended the stairs. The houseboy was waiting alongside a deliveryman. She signed her name to the pad he held out, and then moved to assess the large boxes.

The first two were Hench products. She could tell from the shapes of the packages that one was the master systems terminal she'd ordered, and that the other was therefore the highly specialized sensor package. The one was something no self-respecting recluse and thief could be without. That's who Sara Smith was, she'd decided.

The other was to test a few theories she had about herself. It should have been no matter at all for that damned hospital to test her blood and determine who had been laying in their coma ward for eight months, yet they hadn't. There was another theory she wanted to test, but that was going to require assistance.

The third box she opened immediately, though. "Club Banana Euro" was printed boldly on the side. She pulled out the long, blood red alligator-skin trench coat and held it to herself appraisingly. She looked to the houseboy for his opinion, though it really didn't matter what he thought.

"Well, red is the new black."

---

beep beep beep beep beep

Ron grumbled a bit and attempted to cover himself with the blanket. "Five more minutes!"

When that didn't silence the alarm, he reached over to sack the snooze button. His hand hit air. He slapped at it again, rolling a bit in the bed to get a better angle. Still nothing.

He opened one bleary eye, and hissed as it tried to crawl back into his skull in pain from the sunlight glinting through the window.

"Too much beer… too much smoke machine… smokey… stuff. Never partying with Monique again…" he grumbled. He allowed his blue eyes to clear for a moment. The alarm clock wasn't there.

In fact, the nightstand wasn't there to hold the non-existent alarm clock, either. Funny, it had been there the previous two mornings. His carpet had also been an ugly blue the last two mornings, not green.

His pickled brain was starting to put these two discrepancies together when a third made itself apparent. The third discrepancy made the first two seem trivial by comparison. It was a curly mop of chestnut hair poking up from under the blanket on the pillow beside his. Or was it his pillow at all?

'oh no… this isn't… no… we couldn't have…' he thought nervously to himself.

"Rufus, buddy?" he whispered. His response was a moment of heavy silence, followed by a groan. His dress slacks wiggled on the floor, and a pink paw stuck out of one pocket and tried to wave him off.

"Rufus, Buddy, what happened?" again, the hand waved dismissively at him. Carefully, he slid out of the bed, and the sheets were pulled along with him enough to reveal not only his own half-buttoned shirt and boxers, but also a caramel-skinned face that frowned slightly in slumber at the disturbance.

He carefully snuck around the bed, shut off the alarm clock, and then carefully snuck back, picking up the pants, mole-rat and all. The renewed silence in the room was broken by the most indelicate snore he had heard in a while. He would have laughed were her certain the exhaustion it described were entirely from alcohol.

Ron had been drunk before; both from beer, and from brain switch rays, modulators, good/evil enhancers, and so many other things. Usually he was able to remember the things that had happened before and during those times. For some reason he couldn't remember anything of the previous night after the second beer and the second turn on the dance floor with Monique.

He was so busy not remembering, in fact, that he nearly broke his big toe stubbing it on the bathroom door. He bit back the howl of pain and closed the door behind him.

"Okay, take it easy Ron…" he thought to himself in a panicky state. "…it's not like you haven't woken up weird places without your pants before."

'yeah, but how often do you wake up next to your best friend's best female friend and not remember how you got there and how you got pants-less?' came the inner reply.

He didn't feel like he'd done anything, he thought. But that didn't stop his inner voice from running over all kinds of scenarios, some more fanciful than others.

He was about to start an inventory as he sat on the toilet set lid when he heard Monique's cell phone ring. He listened, heart in his throat, to see if maybe she did remember what, if anything, had gone on.

"Yeah, sup?" came the grumbled answer to the ringing.

"…"

"You're kidding me? Girl did it again?"

"…"

"Right here in town? She must have been P.O.B.T. One Year Anny and all."

"…"

"What's P.O.B.T?" Ron whispered to himself as he listened.

"pissed off big time mmhmm mhmmm" came a groggy mole-speak response from his slacks.

"That's the first one she's ----- -- ------…" there was a pause. Monique's voice got quieter. Ron strained to listen.

" ----- --- ------ ---. Badge missing again? She didn't first three."

"…"

"Yeah… give me five. I'll and catch a cab."

"…"

"No… He doesn't know. He doesn't need to, and your parents definitely don't!" came a stronger reply this time. "And no, you're not calling -----."

"…"

"Look J, T… I can't talk over both of you."

"…"

"Little boy blue couldn't tell us anything. Glow Stick's our only bet."

"…"

"Awkwierd? How do you two even know?! You don't know the half of it twerps. And no body else better know either, got it? Just --- --- ---." came one much more irritable reply; hissed through what Ron thought must be clenched teeth. He heard the phone beep as the call was ended

After a long moment of silence during which Ron's heart skipped as many beats as it made, there was a knock at the bathroom door.

"Ron… hey, I know it's a lil heavy, but I need to go… corporate just called, they need me in our office downtown. Major blow up with a supplier, you know. Can you let yourself out?"

"um… sure Monique.. catch you... later..?"

"yeah, sure… coffee on me. Vintodo."

He heard her rustle around for two minutes, and then leave the hotel room. He stumbled back out into the main room, slacks still clutched in his hand. By now Rufus had gotten out and crawled up onto his shoulder.

"Buddy, what did happen last night?" he asked quietly.

"don't know. too many cashews" came the high-pitched reply of a hung over mole-rat.

"And more importantly… what was all that about?" Ron scratched his mussed blond mop and tried to piece together three-quarters of one-half of a conversation. "Didn't sound like any fashion deal I ever heard?"

---

"I thought people were supposed to be happy the morning after?" Jim blinked as the call got cut off.

"That's what I thought. Maybe she's just upset that Shego's in Chicago?" Tim replied.

"Or maybe Ron just wasn't that good." Jim grinned keenly.

"Yeah, Kim never let him…" Tim trailed off into a whisper, even though no one else was in their lab.

The twins got busy about arranging for Monique's transportation back to the Observation Deck after hours for later that evening, still grinning. Then they dropped what looked like a brown and gold set of tights into a tube, counting on it to find its way through UPS to Chicago over-night.

"I still say we should call Wade… he's much better at hacking Air Traffic Control."

"Monique said no. Remember what happened last time we called someone in without her knowing?" They both rubbed their ears in painful memory. The eleven month partnership had had its more fiery moments.

Monique had come to them when it became clear that that stuck up British boy Will Du wasn't going to lift a finger to catch whoever blew up the building. The twins had met him before, but they had no clue how Monique knew him. She'd told them that Du blew her off at KP's funeral, quoting some obscure regulation.

With Ron in the hospital and Wade pretty much shut off from the world, she'd come to them for technical help. It had started with a little hacking, and a new communicator. Monique said she wanted to find out what really happened to Kim. Over the past few months things had progressed rapidly. Now it was security system hacking, bank tracing, and new gadgets.

"Fine, no Wade… Not like half our stuff isn't based on his anyway?"

"Hoosha."

"So, what about Ron? Think she'll bring him in?"

"No way. Too many memories."

"Okay, call up that Matrix movie footage. She said she wanted to watch it again."

"Why, does she think we can download stuff to her brain?"

"That would be way beyond… But how?"

"We still got that moodulator?"

"Hicka Bicka."

The twins grinned. As always, when one thought of something, the other as less than a step behind.

---

There was a beeping in her deep pocket. It went unnoticed for a moment. The hand that would normally retrieve it was currently roiling in green plasma, and clenched into a fist.

"Tell me! Now!" Her teeth were gritted, and she held her burning fist high over her head, intending to cave in the skull of the blue armor-clad enforcer if she didn't like the response.

"Who killed Kim!?"

"I- I don't know! I've only been with GJE for six months! Please!"

Shego growled as she saw a darkening spot spread through the crotch of his armor. Her fist flared even more brightly for a moment, illuminating her face and dangerous scowl. Then the plasma fire evaporated and she punched him in the face, her metallic gloves cracking with at least a little satisfaction against his nose. She dropped him on a pile with two of his comrades and swung her fists to the sky, reigniting them and throwing bolts into the night.

Finally, spent of energy and rage, she dropped her arms and gave the pile of Global Justice Enforcement agents a sharp kick. Turing and walking, she yanked her phone from her deep pocket, glaring at it as if to demand its silence.

"You need a cover-story… so do I. Meet me tomorrow night in San Francisco. More info to come."

Shego blinked irritably at the text message. Her eyes had finally faded from a faintly glowing green to their normal chocolate-brown. The phone beeped again in her palm, and she clicked to the next message as it arrived.

"I can make it worth your while. $$$"

She sighed tiredly, and scrubbed her green talon-tipped gloved over her face. After a few moments she grunted at herself and relented.

The mercenary Shego had not been taking paying work; hadn't for months in fact. She'd instead been on a crusade. After piecing together the events of that night just over a year ago, she'd realized that someone had set them up. Drakken's device shouldn't have exploded; it had been shut off by that doofus and his rat.

"Fine… I'll be there… you better be legit." She tapped out the response into her phone after shedding a glove. Crusades cost money. Hers was nearly gone. Drakken's bank account was nearly exhausted as well. She paused at this thought. Where did Drakken get his money anyway?

Exiting the alleyway, she stepped up to a sleek black motorcycle. Sweeping her long green alligator-skin coat aside, she swung one long leg up and over the all-black cycle, mounting it; her body subtly relaxed as she embraced the curves of the sleek machine. Without her once-frequent tropical vacations, the freedom of the bike was all that relaxed her now.

Clinging to the back of her ride, her hair and coat whipping theatrically behind her, she sped off into the night. The thrill of the ride out into the countryside surrounding Chicago's suburbs was only enhanced by the fact that she rode lights out, relying on her eyesight and the full moon, covering the curves and traffic of I-80. She got a few honks as she whipped lightless through heavy near-city traffic in the night. But this was what it was about, the danger, the excitement...

No rules to follow, no one to tell her what was and wasn't right, just her against the world. This was why she was a mercenary, this was why she stole, and this was why she fought… Kim.

The revelation was so stunning that she almost spattered her bike across the back of an eighteen-wheeler that was doing seventy-five to her one-hundred and two.

Shego pulled the bike into the emergency lane and ran her hands roughly through her hair, trying to get a grip. Kim… Kimmie, Princess, Sunshine… Little Miss Perfect. The redheaded girl who'd been haunting her thoughts. But why?

That revelation, it seemed, wasn't enough. Fighting with Kim because they were opposite was one thing… She felt somehow that that didn't explain this crusade… this quest for vengeance. The last piece of the puzzle eluded her grasp. Shego slammed her fists down on the handlebars of the bike, and felt it sink down on its shocks and bounce back. She hit it again, demanding it do more than bounce beneath her.

She raised her fists to smack grips again, but took a deep breath, and instead rested her hands down on them. She instead expressed her frustration at the elusive impulse by revving the bike passed it's redline, until the engine whined and threatened to burn out its bearings between her thighs. She let it spin down again, unsatisfied by its submission.

"Oh well, Its 3,000 miles to San Francisco, I've got a half a tank of gas, a pocket full of GJ badges, its dark, and I'm driving with my lights out." She grinned, paraphrasing her favorite chase movie to herself as she kicked the bike into gear, and threw it back on it's rear wheel, and set off into the night.

Authors notes: I don't know where it got into my head that Kim is a coffee fiend… but it's a thought about her that's stuck in my head for some time though. I dunno.

I feel for Ron in the second section. Not only is he not sure if he's had a night in flagrante delecto; but he's sure someone is keeping something from him. And waking up with the alarm clock not where you left it is always a little disturbing. I hope I gave him back a little of the comfortable clumsiness that he's been missing in the previous two chapters though.

Rufus… well, I didn't feel good about having him drunk and hung over too, so I figure he binged on the most expensive part platter nuts and snacks around.

And why wouldn't Shego absolutely love "Blues Brothers?" Not only does it take place in Chicago, a city she's just leaving, but come on, its about two ne'er-do-wells outrunning the cops, fighting the system, but ultimately its to do something good… and good music too, Shego loves her music. Though she strikes me as more of club kiddie than a blues aficionado.


	6. Chapter 6

Kim Possible: The Darkness Without

Pt 6

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley, and without their strokes of brilliance, none of us would be reading anything like this, and absolutely no offense to their hard work, blood, sweat, and ink is intended. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT!

Less Boring and Still Important Stuff: This work is inspired by and based on the fan artwork and concept, "The Green Wraith" by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Two-three years after Kim Possible's graduation. With Kim Possible dead, the world has been relying on Global Justice Enforcement to defend it from all manner of threats… but is the newly remolded GJE working solely for the public good?

Now, on with the Story...

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"How the hell did Kim do this every day?" Monique grunted softly to herself, reaching up for the next hand hold. She was half dangling/half climbing on a man-made mountain.

The mountain in question was a tangled mass of steel rebar, structural members, and broken concrete that had once been the roof line and television antennae of the Sears Tower. It now sat in a government controlled scrap yard. The twins had been surprised when they'd found out it was still around. The price of scrap metal was through the roof, and it should have been melted down and sent to China months ago.

'I only wish. I wouldn't be out here, getting dirty and smelly if it had.' Monique thought to herself as she found purchase and pulled herself up onto a makeshift ledge. She wiped a gloved hand over her sweaty brow, and paused, breathing a bit heavily.

She looked out over the depressing mass of steel, trying not to think about what it symbolized. It symbolized her B.F.F.'s actual tombstone; not that empty casket in California, nor the granite and bronze plaque she'd visited two nights in a row. Here was where Kim's mortal remains were… such as they were.

The first night she had been to the granite memorial had been part of the official memorial service that marked the one year anniversary of the Sears Tower Detonation.

The second night had been a private request. had gotten its first hit, ironically, to investigate the defacing of Kim Possible's memorial. The site's name was a bit of an homage to her girl. The twins had loved it, and put it into effect almost immediately. It had been up for three weeks, and she'd received only the usual drivel and spam she'd expected during that time. Mostly they were both positive and supportive of her attempt to pick up the helping business; or they were derisive, accusing her of cashing in on someone else's memory.

Finally though, the building manager of Sears Tower had contacted her. He was mildly shocked, t say the least, when Monique had shown up in his office, considering the two had talked briefly the night before at the memorial. After a brief discussion of what had been found in the memorial, and her adamant denials that she had anything to do with it, Monique was given the patch that had been found by a janitor stuffed into the monument.

She'd also been given a check. That was the main difference between and Saving the world was not an inexpensive proposition. Gadgets, like the ones she was using tonight, also didn't come cheap. She didn't demand or extort anything in exchange for her services, especially since they were mainly investigative.

However, Monique did make it clear that there was a difference between saving the world and recovering stolen industrial secrets. Kim might have been willing to do it all in exchange for rides and good will, but these guys had money to burn and Monique was not a fan of the Ramen diet. So she had no qualms about accepting rewards, finder's fees, and other forms of remuneration when they were offered.

She sighed after a long moment and stood up, dusting her gloved hands off on each other, and thus cleaning the microscopic hooks that let her do her spider-girl act. She paced one booted foot on the sheer concrete wall before her, and began climbing up the surface slightly less gracefully than an arthritic three-legged platypus.

"I swear girl… You better be worth all this." She grumbled under her mask once more. Monique was not the natural-born athlete Kim had been; and her burning thighs and forearms were reminding her of that fact now with every grasp-and-pull movement.

She was thankful, therefore, for all the help the 'tights' she was wearing gave her. They were a warm sort of chocolate color, accented with glowing golden strips at her hips and along her arms and legs. Along with the gloves and boots that enabled her tenacious and graceless clinging, they were probably the only thing keeping her from plummeting seventy feet to the ground. Her 'tights' were in fact, the latest iteration of Kim's battle-suit.

When the boys had taken particular glee in pointing out her lack of mad skillz on their old jungle gym, she'd challenged them to come up with a better solution. A few hours later, they'd returned to her with a dusty garment bag containing a set of white and blue tights.

"Uhhu… I ain't no magic mage." She'd said in disgust at the labor-day violating armor. She'd said it in an affronted manner, but holding the battle-gear in her hands had nearly choked her up. Well it had, in fact, but the twins were also too choked up to notice.

After that cathartic moment, the boys had gone to work for her… on the condition that she got to design. After all, she and Rufus had stol- erm had designed Kim's second generation mission-ware. J and T, as she had dubbed them, had owned up pretty darned well. With a few color change, and some stylin' lightning bolts that glowed a warm golden color, her mocha-colored battle armor was done in a couple weeks time. Not only did this suit have the strength enhancing and self-healing abilities of Wade's previous suit, but it had gyroscopes built in that made her somewhat more nimble than she was on her own. She still wasn't vaulting around like a flea on a hot-plate, but she didn't look like a total newb, and that was what was important.

Wade had never solved the plasma-blaster problem that made Kim stop wearing the suit, and neither had the twins. So she wouldn't be trading blows with the likes of Shego and cutting her way through steel walls. In exchange though, T had told her, they had extra power for all sorts of other things. One of those things was the mono-filament cable she half-dangled from every few minutes. It launched, also spider-girl-style, from her wrist, and adhered to surfaces with the same micro-velcro technology that her boots and gloves did.

This of course, had led to J saying she needed to call herself 'The Brown Spider.' That suggestion had quickly been shot down when the more worldly fashion designer-turned-detective had told both boys of its euphemistic meaning.

She grinned under her mask at the memory of that conversation. The family Possible was many good and wonderful things… but they sure were white-bread sometimes.

Reaching the top of the concrete wall, which she discovered was actually a concrete floor turned on its side, Monique leapt through space, and latched on to one of the skewed twin television masts. The 'Chocolate Ninja,' as she sometimes thought of herself when looking into the mirror, had done it again.

In fact she did look just like her self-applied nome'du gare would imply. The boys had used a little of the suit's extra power and built her a facemask that included a communicator, a digital camera, and an air-filter/scuba setup. It made her look for the entire world like something out of a Hong Kong action movie marathon.

Blinking her eyes in a specific pattern triggered said camera; and she photographed the base of the TV antenna in visible, infrared, ultra-violet, and various other kinds of light. She was about to use the torch built into her right finger-tip, another add-on, to cut a sample when she was illuminated by a handheld spotlight.

"You! Freeze!" She had learned the hard way a few nights before that one never looked into the beam of a flashlight at night. It never did any good, just made her eyes and head hurt. Of course that had been a harmless security guard at Sears Tower. She had been invited there.

This was entirely different; she was in a top-secret bone yard, uninvited. Keeping her back to the light and guessing it must be damned bright to light her up seventy feet in the air, she took one step backwards.

Counting to three, she twitched her wrist and was thankful when the battle-suit did what she wanted as if reading her thoughts. The cable flicked out of her wrist and caught a hanging beam, transforming her rather graceless fall into a clumsy but far less dangerous swing. She swung out and yanked the cable in a way that made it release its hold, dropping her a good twenty feet away from the holder of the spotlight.

Bullets whizzed past her and raise the dirt at her feet, cutting off any time she had to congratulate herself on her artful and impromptu flying act. Monique darted to her feet and started running for all she was worth, once more thanking the suit and the twins for their assistance. Running faster than a fashion designer or even an Olympic track star had any business running, she vaulted the razor-wire topped fence, and came down on her feet for a change. The suits gyro's had kept her upright, thankfully.

Escaping the top-secret savage yard, which contained more than just the one mountain of debris, was only the first part of the mission. She still had to get back with the evidence.

'chalk up another for the twins.' She thought to herself as she jumped into her rented SUV and tore off into the night. As she went, she couldn't help but think that was one dangerous 'mish' down… and a far more delicate mish to go. Coffee with Ron.

---

Dr. Cyrus Bortel blinked, and then grinned. He typed in a fairly fat figure of Euros on the Villainster message board and waited for a response. The wait got longer.

…and longer still. Had he got too greedy?

"Done." came the response after a heart-stoppingly long moment.

"Your reputation for neuro-physiology better live up to the hype." appeared a moment later. Bortel, a plump, easy-going little man, wasn't sure how to take that.

The deal being discussed was right up the wayward scientist's alley. After the failure of both his Moodulator and his mind control chip, he'd only made a little money contracting on the EvilEnhancer. He'd heard that that had worked too well at the convention it was demonstrated at, turning some boy into an evil mastermind. Two years now he'd spent on this nerve interface; it would allow human nerve cells to control robotic servants without even having to cut open a skull. Now, finally, someone wanted to license the technology. This S.S. person, who claimed to be with Wraith Technologies, whatever that was, seemed very eager in fact.

Once he'd confirmed the eBid payment, he sent off his information to the address specified.

"V.F. Porter... Why does that sound so familiar?" The plump little scientific profiteer mused. "And who is W. Loade to have that kind of money?"

---two days earlier---

Shego was convinced that she must be going slowly, irreversibly mad. In less than four hours she'd ridden from Chicago to Des Moines. This could be done when one was riding at upwards of one-hundred miles per hour and had no concern for one's own safety. She'd been forced to stop again for fuel at a rest stop on the east side of the rural state's gilt capitol dome. As she listened to the slow pinging of the bike's engine cooling in the night air, she'd been forced to come to a realization.

The realization was forced, in part, because of her own numb ass and inner-thighs. Her bike was damnably fast… but it was no cross-country cruiser. What had made her think that she could cross three-fourths of a continent on it, especially in one night? For some ethereal promise of 'a cover-story?!'

She was generally not bothered by the cold, even if it was Halloween night in the Midwest. In fact, she felt rather fortunate that the lateness of the season meant that she wasn't picking bugs from her teeth and hair. Still, she'd crossed the small city to the so-called international airport and secured a flight. Being Halloween night, she got fewer of the usual number of stares at her more-than-olive complexion. For that she was thankful.

Shego had been through the farming state before. In fact, it was one of her favorite places to put her little two-wheeled Oni through its paces. The rural countryside meant plenty of hills and twisted back roads to fly through at speeds that would make the cycle's manufacturers wince. Her love of the roads department, however, did not translate into love for its people.

In many ways they reminded her of Kim, she thought as she sat in the first class section of the 777 bound for Frisco. The people of Iowa seemed to be polite to a fault, and took everyone at their word. They hadn't even asked twice when she told them she wasn't sure when she'd be back for the bike after she put it in long-term parking at the airport. Just like small-town folk everywhere, though, their eyes followed her soap-green skin and shimmering green-black hair.

She sighed heavily, settling back into the plush seat with a flute of champagne. Another reason she didn't spend so much time in her favorite riding territory was that, short of riding, there wasn't anything for her to do there. No clubs to occupy her restless body with music that would deafen a mere mortal, no movie houses offering late night showings of Rocky Horror when she got into an odd mood, and not a strip of passable sea-food to be found in the land-locked territory. And yeah, to a person, everyone she had met in that state acted like a slightly-less-cosmopolitan version of her pumpkin.

'So polite… God, how do they stand themselves!?' Shego again scrubbed her face with her hands, groaning to herself within her own mind.

'and what's wrong with polite? you never seemed to mind that in me. …and since when was I your pumpkin?'

'well… since…' Shego stopped that train of thought quickly. She also self-consciously looked around the dimly lit first-class cabin. Kim's voice was so clear in her mind that a tiny part of her wanted to believe it had come from someone sitting nearby.

When she saw that there were no redheads nearby at 4 am on the flight, she sighed again, and took a sip of her champagne. It did nothing to soothe her nerves or quite the discussion that had begun in her mind.

'well, since when?'

'since whenever, okay?' Shego's own voice spat back.

'fair enough.' Kim's voice in her head went on after a moment, deciding to allow the self-delusion of her host to continue. 'did you really have to do that to the GJE agent the other night?'

'you mean kill him?' a memory flashed before the two eyes of the mental constructs. The man screaming for mercy, and then was silenced when the grenade Shego had forced into his breast-plate, one of his own weapons, detonated. He'd refused to say anything after seeing the look in the madwoman's eyes when he'd admitted to flying the helicopter that night.

'yeah, that.'

'god you're naïve!' The inner-shego snapped, 'you always were! those bastards killed you! they tried to kill me! that one right there?' the inner-shego pointed, 'he was in that damned helicopter! he watched them PUSH THE FUCKING BUTTON!!!'

Shego was white-knuckled as she sat there, arguing internally with her adopted conscious. She slammed back the remaining half of the champagne and swallowed it bitterly.

In her mind there was a version of Kim… two versions in fact. One never said anything. She merely watched over her shoulder when Shego did the thing's she'd done these past few months, and occasionally tugged at her shirt like a lost little girl, reminding Shego that she was still around.

That was the one that drove her on, made her hunt the GJE dogs wherever she could find them. She looked like a pitifully lost puppy to Shego's mind, and the mercenary wanted to protect her.

The other Kim in her mind was the vexing one that was with her now. She was the real Kim, or so she claimed. She was the one that insisted on reminding Shego that Kim didn't steal. That Kim didn't lie. That Kim didn't beat people senseless when she could avoid it. That Kim Possible didn't kill.

That Kim in her head also told Shego that she wouldn't want such things done on her behalf either.

The Kim-conscious remained silent finally after being yelled at. Shego sat in her seat and nodded triumphantly, holding up her glass flute for another serving of champagne. She smiled to no one in the real world.

'besides, I didn't kill any of those others… even the one that pissed himself last night.' Shego's own inner voice added after a moment, as if to ameliorate her motives.

'that was so totally nasty' agreed the Kim-conscious, giggling in that way the real Kim would have.

Shego giggled softly. Then she clapped her hand over her face and groaned loudly.

"Fuck… I am going mad. I'm having arguments with the voices in my head… and they're winning!" She sighed, whispering quietly to herself now in the still of the red-eye flight.

After a moment she sat up, gratefully accepting the second drink as it was delivered to her. She knew she wasn't really going insane. The two Kim's in her head were her own mental images, and if they didn't take the form of her Kimmie, they would have taken some other form to get her attention over these morally ambiguous activities.

As she settled back to sip her drink and try to get some sleep, the Kim-conscious got in one parting shot. 'and since when was I your Kimmie?'

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Author's notes additional: Please forgive a little narratorial indulgence with Shego's long night-time ride. Having grown up in Iowa, and then spent time in larger cities… There really is nothing to do for a die-hard urban girl in this rural state… I too have broken more than a few speeding laws on the winding back roads and county highways like T-15, in my little red sports car though, not on Shego's expensive little crotch rocket.

People around here really do remind me of Kim, in her behavior anyways. In the small towns where I grew up, everyone helps everyone, no questions asked. Anyone who's grown up in eastern Illinois, southern Wisconsin, or southern Iowa knows about how friendly and down-to-earth the people are.

Okay, I know we're heading into Chapter 7 and I have yet to even hint at who the major villain is… don't worry, we'll get there.


	7. Chapter 7

Kim Possible: The Darkness Without Pt 7 (draft)

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Kim dead, Shego on a plane to a new job, Ron + Monique? The world is really turned on its head and that's just the last chapter.

Now, on with the Story...

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Wade blinked. He blinked again. By the third blink he was rubbing his eyes. Wraith Technologies…

Two weeks ago he'd received a simple request. Combine the work of two other scientists with some he'd done on the side in the past, and then submit the results to S.S. at Wraith Technologies. Nothing about that had bothered the hacker at the time. At the time had been Kim Possible Day. He had a lot of other things on his mind.

Now though, with his finger, virtual though it was, hovering over the send button; he wasn't so certain. Something was bugging the hell out of him. He'd been asked to contract the work. So he'd been issued a bank account with the company. Not highly unusual; Enron used to run the same kind of numbers. It was suspicious, but legally above board.

So Wade had purchased the licenses to some neuro tech from their old troublesome friend Dr. Bortel. Oh well, better to have anything like that out of the hands of a man who'd once turned Kim into an unstable vixen straight out of 'Single White Female.'

What made him blink, though, was the name of the other scientist Wraith wanted him to work with; Vivian Frances Porter, Robotacist. Wade knew Vivian from their days in Ultimate Robot Fighting. She was a genius with a body that just didn't stop. In fact, that was part of why Wade remembered her; not for her body, but for what it had caused her to do.

Vivian, or VF as she had gone by in those days, felt that she couldn't be taken seriously because she was a blonde bombshell. To that end, she'd crafted her robotic 'boyfriend' Oliver. Oliver had been her cover during her days with URF. She worked as a lowly Lab Assistant by day, not showing her true potential, and at night Oliver was given credit for her unbeatable creations, no one knowing that he was in fact her masterwork creation.

Wade, Kim, and Ron had dealt with her and Oliver when she was accused of theft. In the end it was actually her lab supervisor who had stolen creations from her. Vivian finally owned up and started accepting the due credit for her work, and now was widely heralded in the field. She was also still a stone-cold babe in Wade's humble opinion, even if she was nearly a decade older than he.

Something still didn't quite seem right. So his virtual finger hovered over the submit button. What did robotics, nano-technology (his own contribution), and neurology have to do with one another? Visions of a bad Star Trek episode came to mind at first, but he shoved those off. Maybe he needed to find out more about this Wraith Technologies.

The virtual hand moved away from the submit button, and a new sphere was opened. Windows was for chumps, he thought to himself. His three-dimensional GUI was so much easier to get around. The new globe, which overlapped the previous like two conjoined bubbles, opened onto the interweb. He got the glossy professional looking homepage of Wraith almost instantly, and the physical address at the bottom of the page was noted by another program living inside that sphere.

"Hmmm… so what the heck do you actually do?" he mused to himself. The page was slick, and loaded with colorful animations and attention grabbing banners. It gleefully offered him an investor prospectus, a stock ticker quote, a 'letter from the chairman,' and various other fluff. The veteran hacker knew better to be taken in by the sizzle when he was after the steak.

With a few quick strokes, he'd meandered his virtual way into more obscure sections of the website. He wasn't as much concerned with what he found as what he didn't. Any Corporation's website should have back-links to their own intranet; this website, however, did not. How was it being updated if it had no connection to corporate IT?

Sloppily maintained web sites should even have the occasional link to a product not released, or a page that wasn't quite ready to go live. Wade wasn't even finding links to old products that had once been offered but had since been stripped from the website. Either the webmaster was the most brilliant and efficient person in the history of the interweb; or this site was a fraud.

It was at that moment that his phone rang. Phone-sphere at least. The bubble floated to the top of his screen and showed him the number calling.

"Well, speak of the devil and he'll appear." Wade mused to himself. He picked up the virtual receiver in his virtual hand.

"Mr. Loade…" the voice on the other end was gravely, forced sounding even. "You seem to be fairly curious for a contractor. Enjoying your tour of our end-user website?"

Wade's face paled. He was routed through so many servers he wasn't even sure he existed in a virtual sense. How did this person know what he was up to? "Um… yeah. I am… Can't help but notice you don't offer any products."

"Indeed we don't. Any amateur could figure that out. I assume by your surfing, that you must be finished with your work." The voice went on. It sounded somehow falsetto now as it continued.

"Yeah… I'm done. You're not getting it until I get some answers though." This whole deal was just beginning to stink.

"Before we give you any answers, we have a question." 'we?' Wade thought to himself. This… person was referring to himself in the third person…well this just got better and better.

"Sure… Go ahead."

"How would you like a job. Your history working for Kim Possible shows that you are good under pressure. How are you about quasi-legal hacking?"

Wade blinked again. It wasn't exactly a state secret, what he did for Kim back in the day… but it was hardly common knowledge either. He rubbed his eyes, realizing he wasn't blinking nearly enough under the stress of the moment.

"What's it to you? I don't even know what you do yet. And what does Ki- Kim Possible have to do with any of this?" Wade was getting more defensive by the moment. He was about ready to pop the big red sphere on the screen that would sever all computer connections to the outside world.

There was a pause on the line, "She was good… therefore you must be good as well. Dr Porter has already agreed. But if this will make you feel better…"

A link appeared in his email sphere. He clicked it and a new set of web pages opened up rapidly. Images of advanced robots, weapons models, helicopters, and other high-end items were displayed library style to him.

"Here are a few things that we don't think the owners should be in possession of." The voice continued. "We think you know this man…"

Senor Senior Senior appeared on his screen now. Wade nodded in spite of himself. He did indeed know the semi-retired multi-billionaire whose hobby was world domination.

"So what's 'quasi-legal' about that?" He asked the 'voice' after a moment.

"Senior bought these things legally, and he owns a private island, so no weapons laws apply. Taking them away would be theft."

"Fine…" he sighed after a long moment. "I'm in. What more do I need to do?"

"Nothing for now." The voice continued. "We'll contact you for more help when the time comes."

---

Sara hung up the phone, smiling softly to herself. The smile grew eventually into a grin. Wade didn't need to know that he was helping her to steal gold and jewels. Sure, if she happened to come across some weapons she could carry, she wouldn't pass it up… but Sara Smith was not in the world saving game.

She stood up, stretching her arm out over her head and standing on her toes to loosen tight muscles. If Triple S wanted the world, he was welcome to anything he could keep nailed down. Anything that wasn't nailed down though… was hers.

This led to her next order of business. She'd used Kim's memories to get some money, but that wouldn't last forever. That wasn't the limit of her problems. She needed work. Someone who knew what to steal and where to get it. Her knowledge here was limited. She'd already applied most of it in ratting out the owner of some of the world's rarest plush, and now in her plans for the Seniors' private island.

She needed contacts. To get contacts, she needed a reputation. To get a reputation, she needed success. Or… she grinned again to herself… 'I could always use someone else's rep.'

This is why she'd paid Shego to come to near-by San Francisco. It was why she'd also been paying the woman, quietly, to stay put while she collected her facts. She knew, though, that Shego wasn't going to stay put for much longer.

So, her problem was simple, convince Shego to work for an unknown.

Shego was a mercenary, she knew. She played by her own rules and worked for the highest bidder, at least until She got bored. Then she too long vacations… spa-treatments, and side jobs. There must be a clue there to convince her to take jobs from Sara's unknown Wraith Industries.

Sara pursed her lips, her brow furrowing. She thought hard for a few moments, trying to pull together all she could remember about the woman and her life. She was finding it harder and harder to access Kim's memories. It was almost like they were a commodity that could be used up.

She frowned harder, working her way through their last few encounters. There was the tapioca incident, the international college in Middleton, the Sears Tower.

Suddenly she started coughing violently, and grasped her chest. The very memory of the explosion caused her to be racked with pain, as if she were once more inhaling raw flames. She fumbled about her desk, and finally felt her hand close on the inhaler. Inhaling deeply, Sara took in all the medicine she could, and finally felt her wounded lungs begin to relax.

"Damn it!" She cursed angrily and hurled the inhaler away when she felt she wouldn't have to take another hit from it. Her body continued to rebel against her will and vex her at every turn.

She'd escaped that damnable little convalescent ward in Illinois in July. It was now November. Despite months of rehabilitation that would make a Shao lin monk weary, Sara Smith was still not close to being in the shape the girl who fell off of Sears Tower had been in.

"No, not fell, was blown off of." She grumbled to herself. Psychology, she was finding, was a funny thing. She clearly knew that Kim Possible, who had climbed up Sears Tower over year ago had been killed in an explosion. Sara Smith, who'd woken up four months ago in Jefferson County, Illinois, was a completely different person.

Remembering the event that separated the two people was becoming tricky. Some days it was as if they were not only two people mentally, but that they had two different bodies. It was as though Kim had ceased to exist; not only in spirit, but in a new, less capable body. Now seemed of be one of those days.

'maybe that's not so far from the truth…' she thought to herself bitterly, looking at the print-out that just happened to be on her desk.

COMPARATIVE DNA ANALYSIS the sheet read across the top. Below that were four lines of A's, C's, G's, and T's. In front of each line was a name; Kim Possible, Anne Possible, James Possible, and Unknown Donor A.

Kim Possible, her mother, and one brother… and, according to the laboratory she had paid to interpret the results, an unknown fourth party who shared common genes with, but was not identical to, the three known subjects.

She was Unknown Donor A, she knew as she scowled at the paper with renewed frustration. This was why the hospital hadn't identified her. Something had changed Kim Possible's DNA. Or was it Sara Smith's DNA? She dragged her hand across her face and over her suddenly dry mouth.

"Leave the 'who am I' shit to the philosophers, Sara… You've got better problems to deal with." She spoke to herself as she poured a glass of brandy and took a large swallow.

After that swallow, she looked into the mirror that lined the wall across from her desk, here in this mansion her patron was keeping her in. The woman who looked back was definitely not the cover-girl pretty crime fighter Kim Possible. For one thing, Kim had two eyes and two arms, where as the woman looking back at her had only one of each. The woman looking back at Sara was also more slender. Her body had none of the taught muscles and firm lines that hinted at the rampant athleticism evident in Kim prior to the explosion.

This, Sara thought as she grimaced, was in direct contradiction to the weeks of toil she was putting in at the gym. Eight weeks now… Eight weeks of weights, gymnastics, and karate. She took another large pull from the brandy glass. And most days she definitely felt a lot older than two weeks shy of twenty three.

So no, definitely not Kim Possible's body. Her face was slightly rounder as well. That quack doctor in Illinois had told her that her breathing problems caused her to 'retain fluid.' She snorted and finished the last of the brandy in her glass. Just what she needed, looking like she had a never-ending period.

'oh well…' she sighed heavily and thought to herself as she sat down behind her desk again, 'questions for philosophers indeed. now… what to do about shego?'

Suddenly the answer came to her, like the proverbial bolt from the blue... It happened to be a green bolt. She didn't have to buy Shego and her reputation… if she could transfer it to herself. After all, she now had in her employ one of the best hackers around.

So now she needed to convince the Mercenary to willingly part with her reputation and past… or maybe just part of it.

She pulled up all the latest Wanted info about Shego. "Assault and attempted murder." Hmmm… Shego did have a temper… who had she assaulted this time?

"Drew Lipsky." Hmmm again… and he was in a coma. Oh, this would be perfect. Shego would be off the hook, just as Sara had promised in her cryptic text message, and Sara would in turn get the reputation she wanted… now she just needed to call Wade back. …and set up a little meeting with Kelly Sheba Go of course.

---

A green glow flashed rapidly into and then out of existence. It was followed by a slower, steadier orange glow as the fire in the barrel grew. She was getting pretty damned tired of waiting. Five more minutes and she was gone… even sixty thousand dollars was not going to keep her in a cold late autumn San Francisco and at the whims of some eccentric who promised, but had yet to deliver, something that they had called a cover story.

The cashier's check had been waiting for her at the rather posh hotel she'd been told to go to upon landing in Frisco two weeks earlier. It had soothed her money worries considerably at the time. And whilst she had been cooling her heels, she'd even been able to deal with another GJE dog. This one had actually had the balls try to place her under arrest on some warrant. Not that he had use of them any longer though.

"SSCA indeed." She snorted to herself. Her brothers may have been dumb enough to be taken in by such tripe… but they insisted on playing by the rules. They got what they deserved.

'did they shego? they are your family after all.' Shego groaned inwardly. Her Kim-conscious was back.

'okay, maybe they didn't deserve it…' she admitted irritably to herself. 'but better them than me.' she added with a grin.

'and what about the other people who've been brought in on those warrants?'

The voice of her annoying conscious seemed to be changing these days. It was less and less Kim's as she remembered it, though it still had Kim's face.

'motor ed? he was pretty harmless.. and he was sweet on you too. they took him in though.' The conscious went on despite her mental grumbles.

'that blonde monkey is…! is...' her flare anger at the misogynistic mechanic faded as she realized the Kim-voice had a point. Ed was pretty harmless, he just wanted to be left alone to tinker with his toys and rev loud engines; and he was Drakken's cousin after all…

'yeah… and about drakken.' The Kim-conscious began again.

"Oh no!" Shego began to object aloud this time. "Doctor Dork'ken got what he deserved… pissing me off all the time! Every single day it was something! That annoying clown worked my every last nerve with his damned jar of pickles..."

'but he was my clown.' The Kim-conscious picked up the train of thought in that same odd voice.

Shit!

Shit shit shit! It was Shego's own voice the image of Kimmie was speaking with, she realized, kicking herself mentally. She kicked herself again for letting that little redheaded twerp make her feel guilty about something she hadn't even thought about in months.

'you almost killed him you know… I almost killed him.' The Kim-conscious was now quickly transforming in her mind, its hair growing dark and think, its skin darkening… and finally, it was Shego.

And she loathed it for being Shego; because if it was Shego, it was her. Damn it, she had a conscious.

"But he deserved an ass kicking! He did!" She tried to object strongly, but her vehemence faded into an unsure whisper, "…he did."

"Who did?"

Chocolate eyes whirled around at the sound of a third voice. The voice was not her own, and it was not inside her head either.

The voice sounded odd, she realized. It took her a few seconds from having her internal dialogue-turned-turned monologue interrupted to realize that. Her eyes finally caught the source in the flickering firelight of the meeting-place she had been called to.

"Who deserved an ass kicking?" The voice definitely sounded off… as if the person speaking was trying to speak more deeply than they normally did. It was coming from a figure that wore a cloak of dark gray and standing at the edge of the fire light.

It was a cloak in the old sense, the sense of someone wearing a heavy cape and a hood. The hood was even tattered around the edges, allowing just enough firelight in to make out the speakers mouth. Obviously, with the money she was paying the mercenary, it didn't have to be worn and tattered.

"Shit, just what I need… another theatrical employer…" Shego mumbled to herself. She spoke up to the cloaked figure, "Everyone's ass needs to be kicked for making me stand around in the cold, that's who!"

The figure nodded slightly. "I thought you'd enjoy the night sky… Sorry."

"Yeah whatever," Shego responded in a flippant manner, "Can we get on with this? I'm cold, I'm bored, and I wanna go out and get laid."

She smirked. The last bit was thrown in for shock value; she wanted to get this dingus off balance after waiting on them for two weeks.

She couldn't tell if 'cloaky' was shocked… or just pausing for their own dramatic value. Either way; the pause ended after a protracted moment.

"Fine, here's the deal. You're wanted for beating the hell out of your last boss. I can get you out of that... make sure you stop being hunted for a while."

"What makes you think I wouldn't do the same to you… making me wait around in the damned cold." Shego grimaced, interrupting as she tried to study her gray-draped companion.

"Because I know why you'd do something like that… It's not normal for you. The Shego I know is not into gratuitous violence. I respect you for that."

She was about to retort, and ask how 'cloaky' knew her at all. The last sentence, however, froze her to the spot. It was as if she'd just been impaled on a very cold pike. Only one other person had spoken those words to her, about thirty seconds before she'd been…

Shego's vision started to blur. She realized after a moment that it was because she was starting to do something she hadn't done since she was eight years old. She was starting to cry. She dug her talons into the palms of her hands. They didn't penetrate the metallic fabric of her gloves, but the pain was enough to clear her thoughts for a moment.

"Yeah… fuck you. Now, how are you going to get me off the wrap?" She went on bitterly as the moment passed, still digging at her palm.

"It's no concern of yours… Just know that it will be done. You'll find another check back at your hotel. Lay low… visit your precious Doctor… get laid, I don't care. Just don't get caught."

Shego's irritation grew again, and was again snuffed in the same moment by the cloaked figure as they seemed to reach into her deepest thoughts. How had the figure known who she was thinking of?

She hated that. She ignited her hands and held them up as if to strike the figure.

The figure turned, though, and walked away. As it did, its profile was briefly illuminated by the plasma fire in Shego's hands. Shego saw short hair and an eye patch beneath the cloak's hood.

"Betty Director?" Shego whispered to herself, not able to handle half of the emotions running through her at the moment. She was torn suddenly, something else she was having to get used to with this damned conscious.

One half of her wanted to rip out the throat of GJE's top dog. The other half, however, thought that this couldn't be the old spy. That half won eventually and Shego let 'cloaky' just walk away because the appearance didn't match the facts.

She knew Betty Director to be dead. Cancer, she'd heard.

---

Once Sara was a few dozen yards away, safely round a corner and away from the alleyway meeting place, she lowered her hood, running her hand through her short, red, hair. She then reached a bit lower and tugged at her collar. The voice-alteration unit came away in her hand and she pocketed it. That had been slightly harder than she'd thought. Why the hell was that?

She replayed the exchange in her head as she walked now, the cloak flapping about her in the theatrical effect she had so carefully prepared it to.

'Everyone's ass needs to be kicked for making me stand around in the cold, that's who!'

'Yeah whatever,'

'Can we get on with this? I'm cold, I'm bored, and I wanna go out and get laid.'

She felt warmth in her cheeks as she replayed things. What the hell?! Was she blushing? She growled at herself angrily. Kim Possible blushed at such talk… Sara did not.

She clenched her fist and smacked the wall she was passing firmly. Damn it! This body was betraying her again! Blushing when she shouldn't indeed!

She returned to her Lotus Esprit and angrily flipped the gull-wing door up, barely missing her own forehead in her smoldering irritation. She threw her cloak into the passenger seat irritably. Cloak shed, she unzipped the black unitard that had been beneath, exposing pale skin down to her belly-button. She then turned, running her hand through her hair once more, sweeping it back with the sweat wearing that damned cloak had caused.

Examining herself in the reflection on the Esprit's black gloss paint job, she nodded approval at her own sexiness. She then slid down into the driver's seat, and set off into the city, intent on finding someone to debauch herself with. If Shego could go out and get laid, Sara damned well could too.

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Author's notes additional: this one flowed out much more smoothly than part six did. And no narratorial egotism ; and what do you know… Plot advancement too, well sorta! Don't worry, the next two chapters will contain actual villainy goodness. I've been meaning to get the real villains in sooner, but my damned muse just keeps coming up with all this character development that gets in the way.

And for those of you trying to keep track with all the time jumping around… it's now mid-november… a little over a year since Kim was "killed."


	8. Chapter 8

Kim Possible: The Darkness Without: Pt 8

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: It's been thirteen months since Kim Possible was killed in an explosion in Chicago… Life goes on, much to everyone's surprise. And Life can't be planned, or can it?

Now, on with the Story...

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"So what do salad fixings have to do with bombs?" Monique was sitting up on the weight bench, a towel draped over her shoulders as she worked to slow her breathing.

"Salad?" T blinked from the parallel bars he was dangling from.

"Chronotrons, not crutons…" J piped up as he stared at a computer screen in the basement of the Possible household. "Time particles. They're all over in these pictures."

"Oh, okay. So what do chronotrons have to do with bombs?"

The twins had been taking turns analyzing since she couldn't get both the pictures and the sample from that scrap yard for them to work on. Secretly, Monique was glad for the turn taking… one brain meant she could stall down here longer. And that meant she could keep putting off coffee with Ron. Two weeks now she'd been putting it off.

Ostensibly, the gym and lab in the basement were to keep J and T occupied. They'd told Mrs. Possible that it helped them to de-stress from therapy. Therapy was a cover too of course. That was when they met up with Monique, who they would occasionally "run into" on the way back from Middleton to the new house in the hills near Upperton.

They hadn't been to an actual grief therapy session that had lasted more than five minutes in months. Once the five minutes was up and they were shown to be attending, they'd excuse themselves politely and meet up with their partner.

J and T obviously didn't want their parents knowing that they were helping Monique get into the world saving business, the very business that had killed their sister. They really didn't want the senior Possible's to know that they were working out to maybe go out there with her.

The twins were finally beginning to discover that they could be pretty athletic if they put their minds, or rather their bodies, to it. A pair of buff line-backer types were rapidly replacing the twin boys with the computer-geek physiques; much to Moniques surprise and slight envy.

T especially, was beginning to ride Monique about her reliance on the battle suit. She had grumbled and again pointed out that she didn't have the jeans for it, while holding a bag of Club Banana… the joke had gone right over his head as most of her jokes seemed to.

"So, what about Ron?" came out a question of the blue. Monique groaned into her towel and prepared to launch into one of a number of diatribes she'd been repeating these past few weeks. She still wanted to know how it was the Possible Twins had figured that one out the morning after it had happened.

Mom Alert, Mom Alert

"I don't believe it… saved by the bell." Monique grumbled. Computer screens were automatically changing to still serious looking but less incriminating information as the faintly alarming… …alarm went off.

"Oh, Monique!" Anne Possible smiled politely as she stepped off the top step and moved down the stairs. "I didn't know you were stopping by?" Her smile seemed to dim just a bit as she remembered Monique had been by quite a bit lately. Was she… involved… with one of the boys? Oh, well that wouldn't be so bad, she thought; they were growing up after all.

Smile thus renewed, she continued down the steps. For once, the boys weren't doing the same thing at the same time she noticed. This added to her suspicions, but it wasn't her place to question who the boys dated… That was John's part in parenting the kids, something he'd proven to be very interested in early on after their daughter discovered boys.

"Hey Mrs. P. Looking glowey as usual." Monique smiled brightly in return, wiping her face off. "The boys were just telling me about this killer new fabric they thought up; and C.B. might be interested… you could have two very wealthy boys soon."

It was a prearranged cover story of course. It didn't explain why she was currently on the weight bench in tights, but the Possible's didn't seem to mind her being around and working out with the boys every now and then during the past few weeks.

"Why thank you Monique." She smiled that warm motherly smile at the compliment, and turned to see what Jim was actually working on at his computer. "A new fabric boys? Is that what all those brown scraps in your molecular reclaimer were that I found last week cleaning?"

J winced at his computer. He'd forgotten about the battle suit scraps left in the reclaimer after the last upgrade. Fortunately, his mother didn't notice the wince, so he quickly nodded his affirmation.

"Mrs. P! Cleaning? I'm shocked! A woman in your condition…" Monique quickly picked up, thinking fast.

"…is not an invalid." Anne came right back, a playful smirk on her face. "Monique dear, I know you're young to realize it; but I'm three months pregnant, not in a wheel chair. And even if I was, I am still the mother of two very troublesome seventeen year olds."

Both boys ducked their heads as if shamed by an unspoken insult.

"So, hows the Foundation treating you?" Monique continued after a moment also spent eyeing the twins Possible.

"Oh, god Monique… If I thought brain surgery was hard… it's got nothing on federal grant paperwork. But then again, I suppose anything with Kim Possible's name attached to it is bound to be complicated." She smiled a weary smile.

Anne Possible was now the chairwoman of the Kim Possible Foundation, a scholarship organization that was targeted towards young women interested in political science and law. It had been established with the money that poured in during the days following Kim's death. Money which would have been impolite, not to mention politically delicate in some cases, to refuse. Rather than just let the money sit in a disused bank account, or give it back and risk insulting the donors; John and Anne had decided to do something to create a living memory of the Kim that the world didn't get to see on a day-to-day basis.

"Lots of R.T. on the Benjamins huh?" Monique was getting up to grab a bottle of water, even as Mrs. Possible was handing one to her.

"Yes," Anne replied after a moment, thinking she knew what the younger woman's abbreviation meant this time. "Yes, lots and lots of R.T. dear."

"And speaking of conditions, do you know the sex of the next little Possible?" Monique grinned, eyeing Anne's faintly swollen abdomen.

J and T both perked up at this, their attention suddenly riveted as they waited to know if they would know whether they were going to have a baby brother or sister.

"Yes Dear… In fact, I just came back from the OBGYN. Do you think you could design us some nice… stylin' pink swaddling?" Anne grinned a bit, enjoying the chance to sound cool around her boys and their friend.

Monique nearly shrieked for joy. J and T smiled, but looked at each other in consternation as their resident detective sank into "Full and Total Girl Mode."

"FTGM?" Jim asked from the computer quietly.

"To the max. Maybe we better get scarce." Tim responded as covertly.

"Oh Fine boys… go on and get." Anne grumped playfully, easily picking up on the boys code. After they had fled up the stairs, she sat down in the now vacant computer chair.

"What about you Monique? Any special man in your life?" her olive colored eyes glanced slightly at the closing basement door.

"Oh… there's a few, just no one I want to be procreatin' with." She nodded self consciously, suddenly very interested in the fabric of her towel.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll meet someone dear. What boy wouldn't want to date a woman who hangs out around fashion models all day?" Anne smirked slightly, patting Monique on the knee. She sat back and sipped her own bottle of water a bit.

Monique didn't bother to volunteer that she'd been on sabbatical from Club Banana's purchasing department now for nearly nine months herself. She could go back any time… but she had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.

She pulled hard at her own bottle of water, making it pop. She then decided that since Kim's mom was in such a fabulous mood, she might be ripe for a little surveiling.

"Mrs. P., did Kim ever say anything about a new enemy when you talked?" Monique went straight for the heart of the issue, hoping to use a little shock and awesome to get her answers.

Anne's smile evaporated pretty quickly. She'd thought she was long done answering those questions. Then again, this was Kim's best girl friend asking, not some nameless bureaucrat or GJE investigator. She sighed heavily thinking back to painful days, and to days before painful days, before answering.

"No dear… no one that she ever mentioned to me. She wasn't even taking missions as often, you know?" She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep tears from coming to her olive-hued eyes. "W-why do you ask?"

"Oh… Just that Ron and Wade and I were thinking about the good ole' days and wondering bout it all… Silly I guess, what with Global Justice Enforcement on the case." She tossed the answer off flippantly, hoping that it and the question were accepted that way.

"Oh, okay hon…" Anne answered after a moment's consideration. She wanted to believe that was the end of it… but something told her it wasn't. It was a voice she didn't like hearing in her mind, because it was the kind of voice a mother always had to listen to, one that never boded well.

---

Global Justice Enforcement Director William Du looked as though his face were trying to crawl its way round to the back of his skull just to avoid looking at the man before him. He understood why they were meeting in private like this, and even why the man's strategy was so formidable. What he didn't understand was why Dr. Al Norm's appearance was anything but ordered for a man who prided himself on rigrous attention to order and possibility.

"Everything is going according to plan I see…" Norm purred. He sat there, in a lab coat that looked like it was sewn together from the coats of several now deceased clowns, stroking a hairless cat that sat in his lap.

"Yes Dr. Norm," Will began, trying not to be blinded by the patch-work coat. He couldn't help but notice, as the Technicolor lab-coat forced his eyes upwards and away, that the man's hair also seemed to belong to several different people, along with his diabolical looking goatee.

"…yes. Things are proceeding exactly as you'd predicted. The world's various governments are giving Global Justice Enforcement all of the powers and authority you'd said they would."

"Good lad… Soon everything will be nice and orderly. Just as I said, from chaos…"

"…comes normalcy." Will repeated as if by wrote. He'd heard the Doctor say those words so often he felt as if he might begin chanting them in his sleep. "Yes Doctor. Your plan seems to be working well. That rogue agent Possible is out of the way, Shego seems to have gone deeply into hiding, and we have GJE agents in one-hundred and two countries already."

"Yes yes… more's the pitty that fate couldn't have eliminated Miss Go's random contribution along with Miss Possible's. However… her ripple won't do much to disturb the plot of our graph."

Will kept his face passive. These mathematic metaphors were starting to work his nerves.

When Doctor Director had announced her retirement nearly a year and a half ago, Doctor Norm had come to then Agent in Charge Du with a plan. It seemed incredibly grandiose, and relied on a lot of what-if's that Will had then not been comfortable with.

After the first what-if, his being named Director, came to pass; Will started listening to the flamboyantly dressed statistician. His probabilities showed that Kim Possible would have to fail sooner or later, and that when she did so it would be spectacular. That was why Will had asked for her on the Sears Tower… The higher the profile, the more likely the failure, Norm had said.

And indeed, with the 99.6 factor that Dr. Al Norm had predicted, she'd been blown not only to bits, but right out of existence. It had indeed been a spectacular, if disturbingly accurate turn of events. From that point on, Will hung on the number man's every evaluation.

Norm had yet to make a mistake, and his recommendations were helping Director Du to make the world a much safer place. Everything was being done by the book, just the way he liked it. Laws were being passed that let his people take care of the bad guys with increasing ease and latitude; and that meant no rules had to be broken to when dealing with super-villains and Mafioso.

Rules of Evidence, in Will's opinion anyway, were cumbersome. The more insidious foes knew that and made his life as an agent hell over it. Yet, they were still rules… which meant they had to be followed. Now that most of the world's governments were allowing GJE to ignore the usual rules, and writing new ones for them in fact, Will found his tasks much more easily accomplished.

"So, Doctor Norm, what does your handy little chart say will be our next challenge?"

Norm eyed him in a way Will was not entirely sure he was comfortable with. "93.2 percent chances are that Shego will reappear soon and resume whatever crusade she believes she has against our agents, Director."

"And just what does she have in the way of crusades?" Will wondered aloud. Shego had badly beaten nearly a dozen of his people in the last six months… One she had apparently caused the death of. Certainly she had reason to fear the enforcers taking her in on any of a number of warrants, but it seemed as though she were on some sort of personal grudge against Global Justice Enforcement.

"I don't know… even my charts can't read minds Director Du." Dr. Norm responded to the half-asked question. Du eyed the painfully colorful stats-man again, and his eagerness to answer any question posed to him.

"Fine fine… What do the numbers say would be the best way to handle her?" he eyed Norm carefully still, concentrating on his ever-present clipboard to avoid the man's coat and hair, or those wild eyes; one blue and one brown.

The man, Du thought, looked as if he had just been given the keys to the city. "Chances are that Shego will try to get closer to GJE's upper echelon agents. If she does… the best thing to do would be to allow her to over-exert herself. Once she has tired, she is eighty-two percent more likely to lose her temper and make a critical error, which will lead to her death."

Will frowned at this. There'd been a lot of death in Norm's numbers lately… more than in any previous projections he remembered seeing from Betty Director's desk when she'd been in charge.

"Fine… Fine then…" he sighed after a moment. "Oh, and there seems to be a new player. Someone broke into a U.S. Government scrap-metal yard. They've been linked to Any thoughts?"

"Someone wants to be the next Kim Possible… Director Du." Norm leaned forward. He almost seemed eager, Du thought now, as he was forced to look at the man's ill-aligned grin and the crooked teeth behind it.

"…and? Do we dare hope she fails less spectacularly than Miss Possible did?"

"I would not doubt it Director." Norm lied smoothly. He'd not predicted someone would take up Possible's mantle so soon. He aimed to make sure it didn't last. Such willy-nilly crime fighting needed to be nipped in the bud. It just wasn't normal to run around in tights at the ringing of a beeper. It. Just. Wasn't. Normal.

"This person has a high likelihood of getting in over their head before they can get to such a dangerous place."

"Good. I hope you're batting average stays high Dr. Norm. Good Day."

'and if I have to, I'll make sure their fate matches the numbers, just like Miss Possible's did.' He thought archly to himself as he exited the Director's office.

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Author's notes continued: Yay, enter our villain. Villains? We'll see. I'm hoping I've given you enough to hang yourse- erm enough to keep reading and guessing what may happen next.

And what's this? An entire chapter without Sara or Shego? What kind of fanfiction is this turning into?!

Part 5 has been re-uploaded as well, the phone conversation Monique has should be a touch clearer now.


	9. Chapter 9

Kim Possible: The Darkness Without Pt 9

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Someone is using Global Justice Enforcement, with emphasis on Enforcement. Someone else is using Shego. Monique is using avoidance, but not for long.

Now, on with the Story...

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Ron Stoppable stared into the mirror. Blue eyes stared back at him. They were worried eyes. Eyes worried about something as simple as coffee.

He splashed the water from the basin on his face, and then began working the lather across his cheeks and jaw. As he drew the razor along his cheek, so close to the mirror, he couldn't help but notice the faint pock-marks. Every rectangular streak of shaving foam removed revealed a few.

The small marks were faint, but they were there. Reminders of an October night in Chicago. That night he'd been forty-five feet from an exploding Trans-particle Vortex Recombinator; not that he knew that was what it was called. All Ron new was that shrapnel from it had scarred his face and hands, and had also scarred his heart.

As he shaved away a few more whiskers, Ron studied his face, wondering if anyone would ever want to hold it the way the woman he lost that night once had. Kim had enjoyed caressing his cheeks and kissing his forehead, he thought as he sighed to himself and rinsed his blade again.

'well, maybe someone?' the thought came unbidden to Ron's mind as he placed the blade along one side of his chin, carefully cutting around one area. He shook his head, he was feeling very… …conflicted.

"diabolical" came a chipper little voice from his left shoulder. It broke his revelry for a moment, and he frowned at the mole-rat on his shoulder.

"Hey, we've talked about this buddy… it does not make me look diabolical. It makes me look mature." He smirked and leaned forward to rinse his face. Rufus scrambled clumsily around to keep from falling in to the basin of swirling warm water and shave-scum.

"Now knock of the diabolical stuff or I'll shave your whiskers." Ron grinned and eyed Rufus's reflection, stroking his own renewed goatee.

"hu-uh hu-uh!" the mole chirped, burying his face under his arm and shivering. The move made Ron notice the mole-rat's left arm, the limp one, and he sighed faintly. Rufus seemed to be able to move it a bit better now, but Ron doubted he'd ever scurry quite as quickly as he once did.

"Okay buddy… I think you better sit this one out… Besides, the JavaLux doesn't allow pets." Rufus made a sour face, considering himself anything but a pet.

"Yeah, sorry buddy, I know it's not bueno, but them's the breaks." He carefully set his little companion down on the back of the chair as he walked into the living room of his small apartment. Rufus continued to grumble, and stepped on the remote, turning on the Animal Planet.

"most extreme!" he chirred when he saw what was on, feeling a little less irritated if he could at least watch his favorite show.

A few minutes later Ron was in downtown Middleton, staring at the JavaLux. He stared at the glass door, not entering yet. He'd gone over what had happened three weeks ago in his mind over and over again. He'd been to Kim's memorial ceremony. He and Monique had gone out to the House of Blues to commiserate.

He'd had a beer. He'd danced a bit with Monique. He had another beer. He danced with Monique again. He'd seen someone he thought he recognized while going to get a third beer for he and Monique. They drank, danced again…

Then he'd woken up, half dressed, next to a similarly garbed Monique. What in the name of all that's Diablo had happened in between?! Ron rubbed the bridge of his nose and grumbled a bit to himself.

The lesser questions about what he had heard while hiding in the bathroom were there too, but they kind of paled compared to whether or not he had slept with Kim's other best friend on the night of her memorial service.

"Oh well, standing around out here isn't going to answer anything, is it?" He walked up to the JavaLux doors and they slid aside for him. He looked around, and spied Monique finally. She was wearing a stylin' pink sweater against the late-autumn chill of northern California.

Ron waved, a little meekly. Monique did the same. He made his way to the little booth she was in, sliding in across from her. He didn't meet her eyes, instead choosing to focus on the specials of the day, including Thanksgiving Pumpkin-pie Spiced Chai. Sounded good he thought, trying to distract himself.

"Hey Ron."

"Hey"

"Your ready to order? My treat, remember?"

"Sure... this chai stuff looks good."

They were silent for a few minutes. Their drinks arrived, and each stared into their own for a few minutes.

"You know…" Monique began after another few minutes, caramel eyes looking up from her coffee, "I don't remember what happened in Chicago."

Ron rubbed the back of his neck, looking up from his own cooling drink and chuckling nervously. "Hehehe, neither do I actually."

"Oh thank god... I was starting to feel like a total O.N.S.B. if it was just me." She sighed as if someone had just lifted a lead weight from her shoulders. She saw the confused look in Ron's eyes and smirked.

"Oh come on Stoppable… One Night Stand Bitch. You've hung with me long enough to know that one." She smirked more and swatted him lightly upside the head.

"hehe hehe, yeah, I guess so Monique." He sighed as well, but she could tell his blue eyes still held some guilt. She was sure her own probably did as well, despite the confession.

"Okay Monique… So we don't remember… doesn't mean something didn't happen." He finally spoke up, voicing what they were both thinking.

"Yeah… sure doesn't." She sighed again, looking glumly at her coffee, finally taking a sip after a moment.

"Okay… So what do you remember? Maybe if we both…" He wasn't sure what to say, and it sounded like a stupid idea as soon as it started to come out of his mouth.

"I remember drinking a few beers, and dancing with you. Boy, you got about the worst case of whiteboy-rythmitis I ever saw." She chuckled a bit, chiding him, remembering him trying to keep up with the beat of the throbbing Chicago blues that had been playing.

"Yeah I know… KP used to tell me I needed lessons all the time." He smiled a bit as well, sipping his drink also.

"Knew I liked that girl for some reason." Monique laughed a bit, sipping her drink again. She pursed her lips, and let the speaking of Kim's name pass, as so often happened when she and Ron or she and Wade talked these days.

"Okay," Ron picked up the thread of conversation after a moment, "I remember getting up to get us some more drinks. When I came back there was a woman sitting next to you… she looked familiar…"

Monique frowned a bit, concentrating at the last of the night that either of them seemed to remember. "Yeah, I remember too… She was… She was taking the drinks from you, and put them on the bar in front of us. I thought it was way harsh the way she called you… doofus?"

Ron's frown of consternation matched Monique's as he worked to remember. The woman had called him a doofus, yeah. And she spilled part of his drink. Or had she… "Yeah… she made a mess all over the bar. And she had on this…"

"Stylin' green coat…" Monique continued, filling in more, "And long black boots… Ron, did she put something in our beer?"

"Maybe… Wait… she called me 'doofus'." Ron was still stuck on something.

"Shit!" Came the cry from someone standing at the register who'd just managed to spill hot coffee right on his leather pants.

"Sheesh! The language of some people!" Ron scoffed. Then he stopped, Monique's chocolate eyes went wide as she sounded out the words.

"Shi… She…"

"Shego!" They both nearly screamed the name in unison. Everyone in the coffee house turned to face them, except for the tall man rapidly fanning hot coffee from his crotch.

---One month later---

She eyed the package before her wearily. It was moving; she was certain of it. She could swear she heard it mewl at her.

"Shego, my dear… Please don't stare at the tree… I'm afraid you plasma might ignite it. It was quite dry by the time the men delivered it to the dock yesterday you know…" The elderly latin man chuckled softly, white brows rising warmly beneath his Santa hat.

She sat back petulantly, still eyeing the intricately wrapped package with her name on it. She crossed her arms over her chest sighed, turning to look at her host.

"Oh dear… Such a pout I have not seen since the days our little redheaded friend hosted Christmas parties in California…" He chuckled again, his eyes seeming to drift from the moment slightly. "She would pout in almost that exact manner when Mrs. Possible made her wait to eat the still-cooling gingerbread men."

Shego tried to look fiercely irritated at the comparison, but it wasn't in her. Her pout faded into a grin and she chuckled a bit too. She stood up and went over to Senor Senior Senior, patting him on a stooped shoulder, and looked back at the tree. "Oh please… No one cold pout like Kimmie."

"Thanks for having me Gramps… I hate this laying low shi-" She paused, catching herself in the curse. "this laying low stuff…"

He eyed her with watery blue eyes for a moment, and smiled, to let her know the slip was forgiven. "Of course my dear… With Junior off in Aspen, it's wonderful to have some company on the island."

"That boy…" She growled just a bit, clenching her fist, "Leaving his father all alone on Christmas! I thought I taught him better than that!"

"I'm afraid Junior has forgotten most of the lessons you taught him my dear. He has all but given up on our quest to rule the world." The old man's rich accent did not hide his sorrow at the widening of the gulf between the two of them.

"Yeah… Probably better for him that way. World-domination just ain't what it used to be with..." She had to bite back some bile to even get the name out, "Global Justice Enforcement."

"Ah yes… ever since that young Mister Du took over, things have just not been the same… At least Betty Director played by the old rules, no?" The aging Mediterranean lamented, "Shego, I am more than happy to help you reek whatever personal vengeance it is you have in store for them... even though you have not told me why. But come… it is Christmas morning, let us open gifts."

Shego's scowl became a child-like grin again. There were only two presents under the tree, one from each to the other. On the Senior's Island, gifts were few, but pricey. She handed her gift for him to Senior Senior and grinned eagerly.

Steady, time-worn hands carefully undid the red and green paper and intricate bow, lifting a small wooden box free after a moment.

"Oh my goodness… It is truly lovely! How did you know I had wanted one of these?" The old man held up the gold pocket watch and pressed the bezel, causing a laser to shoot out and scorch a near-by tile.

"A girl has her ways of knowing, Gramps." He chuckled at the nickname that playfully was applied to him.

"Please, open yours… I'm worried it- he will make a mess…" Shego's raven brow arched at that hint, and she whirled, gleefully picking up the package.

She thought better of shaking it, since it really did move in her hands. She carefully unwrapped the green shimmering paper, and squealed when a pair of slitted blue eyes blinked out at her.

"mew."

A warm smile spread across the old man's face, removing years from the leathery wrinkles and uplifting his eyes. "His name is Othello… He's a black leopard cub. But you probably knew that already."

Shego reached in and tugged out the little kitten. He was only slightly larger than a housecat kitten, and so incredibly soft. She clutched him carefully to her chest with one arm, and tightly hugged Senior Senior with the other.

"Oh, he's perfect! How did you?"

"…an old man has his ways too you know, my dear." He smiled warmly, patting her shoulder as he went to sit down. "You've seemed so lonely these past few weeks. I though a companion closer to your own age might cheer you up."

She smirked and stuck her pink tongue out at him. He knew damned well she was turning thirty-two in a few weeks, even if she acted half that or less some times. If anything, the three of them were about equidistant in age. Still, she appreciated it; she had been lonely. She would never admit it to anyone, least of all herself, though.

She and Senior spent the next few hours discussing Christmas, villainy, and various other things, and watching Othello fumble around in the wrapping paper in his kittenish way.

"So my dear, shall we adjourn to dinner? I'm afraid I could not get a goose this far south… but I think you'll find the sea bass…"

The discussion was interrupted rudely by alarms screaming for attention and steel shutters dropping in to place over the windows.

'What the hell?" Shego growled and ran to the monitor to find out who had interrupted their holiday.

She blinked at what she saw in a rather stupid manner. Senior Senior hobbled over to her and looked at the screen. He didn't blink, but he may as well have. "My dear… How can you be robbing me, and standing next to me at the same time?"

They watched as someone clad in green and black threw a bolt of roiling green plasma against the lock to the lower-hangar. The figure, moving fully on to the tarmac and into the view of the camera then, shocked them both. If it was Shego, it was a Shego straight out of Dante's Inferno.

"Damned if I know… but I intend to find out."

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Author's notes additional: Didn't see that coming did you? Or maybe you did… if you've seen the art "Darkness Within" is based on…

Bonus Points and a cookie to anyone who got the "JavaLux" and "spilled coffee" reference.


	10. Chapter 10

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 10

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: A new player on the scene… and someone is moving behind those scenes.

Now, on with the Story...

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Meanwhile, several time zones away, in a basement in Middleton, CA, J and T were staring a bit dumbfounded at what they were watching on screen. Dumbfounded was perhaps not the best word to describe their expression, but it was closest o describing the mixture of amazement, success, and shock that continually rolled across each boy's face.

It was early December twenty-sixth, and their present to Monique was being put to rather stunning use.

"I can't believe it worked…" J marveled quietly.

"I thought we were going to fry her brain into a tofurkey…" T nodded his surprise at their success.

At that moment, on the recently cleared floor of the basement gym, Monique was executing a half twist at the apex of a back flip that had taken her a good seven feet into the air. It was made all the more spectacular by the way her body flattened to avoid the basement ceiling mid-flip.

When she landed, she rolled smoothly to her knees, crouched, and used the momentum to vault forward across the gym mats as if tackling an imagined foe. With no opponent to stop her, she rolled again, and brought her legs into a rather theatrical scissors-kick. Her entire body then seemed to crack like a whip, as she went from flat onto her back to standing erect; and took a deep bow, breathing heavily.

"Kickin!" She panted as she stood back up. Then she grabbed the bridge of her nose and scowled, stumbling back and just catching herself on the weight bench to sit down. Both twins were at her side in a moment.

"You okay Monique?" J swept a strong arm under her arms and shoulders to steady her as T pulled a small item from the back of her neck.

Still holding the bridge of her nose, Monique swatted at the back of her neck as the chip as tugged free, four tiny holes in her skin quickly closing as its prongs were removed.

"Wicked… now there's a rush." She groaned out softly, turning to look at the device in T's palm. It was round, about the size of a quarter, and dominated by a glowing red glass bubble. That light, at the moment, was blinking in a sequence that they boys could interpret, and T made mental note of what it meant.

"Well, it is a lot for your brain to take in. Accelerating your brain's learning centers and memory so you can learn at super speed and all." J was still supporting her, her sweat soaking through his shirt as she slowed her own breathing.

"Yeah, we couldn't download stuff straight into your brain, but at least we can help you learn it faster." T quipped as he carefully put the chip back onto its holder, connecting it to the computer.

Monique, still panting faintly from the exertion of the little floor-show, nodded dumbly and carefully extricated herself from J's. She'd learned in just four hours of practice and repetition what would have taken her weeks to master in a gymnastics class. Carefully, she extricated herself from J's grasp and reached passed him for a bottle of water.

"Damn… gonna have to bulk up the body to keep up with the brain." She grumbled, noticing as she stood the way her thighs rebelled against the act. She grabbed J's shoulder for assistance and took a hard pull on the water-bottle, caving it in as she sucked the liquid gratefully from the plastic.

"Well duh… you've been using the suit as muscle, Monique." J smirked and eyed her as he supported her, moving to a slightly more comfortable position as she continued to lean on him and decimate the water bottle.

His quip was met with a rueful brown eye and he had to duck to avoid a rapidly snapped towel moving down from her shoulder. He chuckled and snatched the towel out of her grasp, snapping it back at her and inadvertently causing her to tumble over.

"…and I bet you're just enjoying the hell out of this, aren't you white-bread?" She smirked up at him, sprawled across his lap awkwardly. She peeled herself again out of his grasp after a wry moment and flopped down onto the floor in front of the weight bench, still working on not panting like she'd just done what she'd just done.

mom alert, mom alert

Anne possible came down the stairs in time to see Jim possible blushing and flustered, but not soon enough to have learned why. She eyed Monique sitting cross-legged before him, and arched a claret brow wryly; descending the last few steps with a plate of cookies and three glasses of milk.

"Oh dear, am I interrupting?"

"Christmas cookies are never an interruption Mrs. P… No matter what your boys say about being too old for C & M" Monique grinned, having caught most of her breath and taking the tray laden with Christmas incarnate.

The women chuckled with each other as Monique attacked the glass of milk with the same fervor she'd destroyed the bottled water. The boys, of course, attacked the cookies while forgoing any protestations.

"So, Monique… how was San Francisco?"

"Frisco's always fun, Mrs. P. But I'm glad to be home in time for the holiday." Monique self-consciously wiped some sweat from her chest and neck. She suddenly realized what things must have looked like when she caught Anne's attempt to be nonchalant.

She realized she wasn't sure which would be a worse thought for the older woman to have, that she was engaging in sweat-provoking activities with one or both of Mrs. Possible's boys, or that the boys were helping her assume Kim's role as hero. She decided to change the subject to one that always got Anne distracted.

"And has the lil girl been behaving herself over the holiday?" She eyed Anne's slowly swelling tummy warmly, taking another large drink of milk before selecting a cookie to nibble at.

"Yes… for the most part anyway." Anne smiled back. She was not fooled for a moment at the topic change; but she was happy for to discuss the life growing within her. "She was a bit fussy on a few mornings, but at least Nana was here to help… I think she's hoping that we'll name the baby after her."

Monique grinned. Nana Possible was one of her favorite old people. She was equal parts Anne and Kim Possible in Monique's eyes, and that was pretty high praise from the fashion-designer turned detective. She could just see the strong-willed matriarch dropping overt 'hints' that she wanted a namesake.

"So, any thoughts on the name?" The younger picked up the thread of the conversation.

"Well, John says he has a great aunt that he's been learning about… I'm not sure I want to name our little girl Miriam, though…"

"Huh… Mim Possible. Why am I not surprised?" She smirked slightly, thinking she had heard that name somewhere before.

"Yeah… that's probably the only thing it's got going for it." Anne chuckled softly and patted her belly lightly.

"Speaking of things going on…" her eyes moved from Monique to Jim on the weight bench and back in a fairly obvious manner, hoping that Monique would take the hint and follow her up the stairs.

---

Shego was not sure how she was supposed to be feeling. She descended the spiral staircase out of Señor Senior Senior's apartment down into the hangar to face someone who seemed to have her powers.

'How do you deal with that?' she briefly wondered.

As she descended the last step and walked toward the hallway entrance to the hangar, the door was blown in before her. It roiled briefly in a sheath of green and black plasma as it rocked to rest. A boot stepped through to still it a moment later.

The boot, for its part, struck her as pretty fearsome. It was a glossy black, and down the shin was some kind of metal shin-guard. That brassy guard ran from the knee all the way to the top of the foot, where it split into three clawed talons which wrapped down over the toe of the boot.

A similarly adorned glove wrapped itself around the door frame in time, brassy clawed fingertips gleaming against what Shego thought must be polished black steel. She looked down at her own metal-tipped gloves, one green and the other black, and ignited them to assure herself that she still was in possession of her own abilities.

She was about to hurl a warning shot across the portal when the figure stepped fully through, freezing her in what couldn't be with apprehension.

The person, if there was a human being in there, was slightly shorter than her, but that made them no less imposing. They looked for the entire world like a demon in a green and black suit of armor. Her hands again drew Shego's attention as they tightened.

Now that she could see them in all their glory, they were less gloves than full gauntlets. The black of the gloved hands each gave way at the wrist to a two-sectioned green and bronzed armor plate that went to near the elbow, and wrapped around the forearm. The green sections seemed to have a faint snake-skin pattern embossed into them, causing them to glisten and catch the faint light in the hallway all the more menacingly.

The upper arms of this demon were black, and dived below a pair of two-tiered shoulder pads that were similarly bronze-and-green with embossed scales. Shego noted that the bronze strip that ran up the outside of each arm almost seemed to glow with an inner energy; this tickled something in her brain, which she ignored for the moment.

Whoever this intruder was, or whatever, they were female. As her eyes moved over from the shoulder-armor, Shego saw breasts in the glossy black of the Demon's chest covering. They were well hidden, though, beneath a massive bronze breast plate that took the form of a hideous mandible; a demonically toothed lower jaw that bound to each shoulder plate and then up her shoulders, hiding most of her breast and neck from view.

That mandibular breast plate was matched by an equally demonic helm. Shego's eyes took it in and somewhere deep inside a part of her shuddered, wondering egotistically if this was how others saw her. The helm's face was as wide as the breastplate and equally fanged, hiding its owner's true mouth in shadow. Two gleaming red eyes were set into the helm, and they glowed with some inner energy, light flickering within the faintly outlined facets there. Cresting the helmet was a long thick mane of silver-green hair running at least to mid-back, and a pair of massive gold and green banded horns swept up and back from the temples.

The intruder's body was clad in some green and black cloth, with was piped with bronze lines, which like the arms, seemed to faintly glow with their own light. The green and black sections fairly alternated, giving the impression of plates of armor, though it clung to her body more like thick leather. Each green section shimmered with embossed scales, and each black section glistened like latex. Around the form's slender waist was what looked like an honest-to-god utility belt in yellow, with multiple large compartments.

Shego shuddered again, a lot of her typical bravado seemingly absent in the face of this ghastly doppelganger.

"Well… Fancy meeting you here." The voice was obviously electronically altered to be deep, rasping, and it almost echoed as the intruder turned to face her. The red eyes of the helmet, Shego noticed dumbly, pulsed in a slow rhythm akin to a heartbeat.

"Y-yeah… fancy that." She stuttered for a moment. After a moment, she grabbed herself mentally by the collar and shook herself out of the stunned stupor.

"Wait a minute, who the hell are you anyway?!" She scowled now, trading shock for irritation at her seeming counter-part.

"Hmmm. Hadn't really considered that..." That deep rattling voice emerged from the helm once more.

Shego suppressed the shudder that that voice brought. These theatrics were working, she thought. 'A lot better than Drakken's ugly lab coat or Dementor's stupid little helmet.'

"You can call me… The Green Wraith." Shego was a bit busy trying to evaluate this intruder and their seeming imitation of her to realize that the figure seemed to be making it up on the spot.

"Wraith… right…" Her own gloves ignited again, and she hurled two bolts at this wraith, charging to one side as much as the hallway would allow. Best to get this done ASAP.

The wraith raised her own hands, and seemed to sweep aside the bolts as though they were nothing. Each talonned gauntlet then ignited in a brighter shade of the same energy and hurled bolts along right behind the jinking Shego.

Shego growled feeling heat and small explosions right at her back as she ran half along the wall and half the floor, trying to close with her demonic double. Just as she got within arms' reach, however, the wraith switched tactics and punched her with right across the jaw with remarkable speed. It felt like she'd just been clubbed with a metal baseball bat.

The taller woman was sent sprawling against the remains of the hangar's hallway door, and recovered without a second to spare as she leapt away from a bolt of roiling energy that followed her down. She whirled and threw bolts of her own at the head of the demon-armored intruder as she fell back, still off balance.

Those clawed gauntlets flew up, again blocking the energy as though it were nothing more than water. The respite, though, gave Shego the chance to regain her feet and launch herself bodily at the wraith.

A mechanical growl sounded from beneath the helmet and she saw a woman's jaw grimace as she tackled the wraith. Unfortunately for Shego, the Green Wraith didn't go down under the tackle. She staggered back a few paces, and then raised her arms over the two of them as they entwined.

Shego grunted as her grasp was broken. She felt an electrifying dizziness rack through her body as a pair of armored elbows came down on the back of her neck. She ended on her hands and knees, staring at the boots of the wraith. She groaned inwardly as she watched in slow motion a claw-tipped boot come towards her face, then all was blackness.

"Well, that seemed vaguely familiar," The wraith's mechanical voice rasped out into the sudden stillness. The voice was followed by a harsh metallic rattling, the wraith clutching one hand to her breastplate.

Her other hand reached up and the helm was tilted back slightly, revealing one irritated jade green eye and one black satin eye-patch. She scowled, clubbing the wall of the corridor heavily in frustration at her body's steadfast defiance of her will. After a moment spent inhaling from a small delivery device attached to her collar, she slipped the helm back down over her face and continued down the corridors.

The spinning battle tops and hovering laser guns proved even less trouble than Shego, and in a few minutes, she'd commandeered a helicopter, and filled it with antiques and gold coins. She chuckled at the former owner's tendency towards the anachronistic. Spanish doubloons and gems instead of banks and electronic currency.

'Oh well, it all fences the same.' Sara thought to herself as she piloted the purloined 'copter away from the private island. The helicopter carried her away with surprising swiftness, and she decided she'd probably keep it.

The elderly owner of the island, and former owner of the helicopter and its contents, had seem most of what the intruder was doing from his now bunkered and shuddered apartment. This 'Green Wraith' had swept aside his defenses and his impromptu security guard as though they were nothing. All she needed, he thought, was a cape flowing dramatically in the wind to complete her dramatic escape.

In her new helicopter, Sara Smith was thinking the same thing.

---Two weeks later---

Dr Al Norm was not happy. This was an understatement; he was livid. His face, usually a pale smooth white, seemed now a patch work of different shades of angry red. He yanked at the oddly angled and colored clumps of his hair, hurling his clipboard to a nearby wall in frustration with his free hand.

First, this Monique person not only seemed to not be failing, but she had actually found flight records showing his helicopter and crew taking off from across Lake Michigan. It was not much to go on… but it was uncomfortably close.

Now Shego's arrest warrant had been nullified by a court in California. Apparently some copy-cat calling herself 'the green wraith' was claiming to have beaten Drakken over a sour business deal. She was also claiming several other crimes perpetrated by Shego.

This chaos meant that he could no longer have Shego hunted down openly. Additionally now this "Wraith" had stolen weapons from the elder Senior. At least Shego seemed to have diverted her attention from GLE agents in the last month or so.

All of this was simply not normal! Two Shego's! A brown-clad ninja! And just now came word that someone was hacking into Global Justice, or trying to at least, but they could not determine who. Whoever it was was also targeting Shego's records.

"Abbey!" Norm practically screamed as he stalked out of his office in the basement of Global Justice Enforcement headquarters. His mismatched boots clip-clopped on the concrete flooring as he stormed through his little annex.

"Abbey! Where are you?!" he screamed again, looking for his assistant in an awkward neck twisting manner.

"Over here… no need to shout doc." His assistant, who could be no more than eighteen, was sitting back with her long legs up on the desk, and was leaned forward painting her toe nails an obnoxious blue.

"Abbey, get your feet off the desk, it's not normal, or proper!" the doctor in his patchwork lab-coat snapped at her, picking up another clipboard and eyeing it as if to dare it to give him more bad news.

"Geeze, what decimal got out of place this time doc?" She eyed him and slowly withdrew her feet from the top of the desk. Sighing when she saw that he was not simply ranting and walking on by, she screwed the brush back into the nail polish and dropped it into the picket of her own much more orthodox lab coat.

"Things are not going as predicted Abbey… Call our friends down in the enforcement… We need to massage the numbers… again." He scowled at her, pointing to yet another clipboard. Sometimes it seemed to her as though he could summon those things forth from the ether.

"…yeah, sure thing doc… you're the boss after all." She blinked. She disliked this, especially going behind Director Du's back; but the doc could be very persuasive about why it needed to be his way and his way only. He had this way about him of making you believe that everything would turn out just the way I said it would on those trusty clipboard of his.

She put in the call to Slim and Shorty, and explained, after she was handed the clipboard that told her what to say, that Shego needed to be brought in; SSCA.

Then Abbey sighed even more heavily and flopped back into her chair. She reached towards her pocket for the nail polish again, but then a better idea crossed her min, and a matching smile crossed her face. She punched in a five digit extension that very few people in or out of GLE had or even knew existed.

"Will, its Abbey… Got plans for dinner?"

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Author's notes additional: I'm liking Dr. Al Norm and Abbey… I hope I can flesh them out a bit more before they have to go. Of course their names are entendre. Anyone seen Young Frankenstein lately? XD

I know I keep moving back and forth between calling the twins J and T, and Jim and Tim… it seems to fit whoever is referring to them at the moment though.

shudders ewww, tofurkey brain…


	11. Chapter 11

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 11

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: A new player on the scene… and someone is moving behind those scenes.

Now, on with the Story...

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Saved by the bell again, that seemed to be happening a lot lately. A lot of those times seemed to be involving Mrs. P. she noticed.

Yet again Anne seemed to be thinking Monique was dating one of the boys.

J, she thought that Anne thought. She kept trying to 'talk' to Monique about it. Not that J wasn't getting to be fairly cute in his old age; he even had the whole rugged stubble thing going on. Of course both the twins did.

Monique guessed she could imagine why Mrs. P was so concerned. The twins were only seventeen after all, not even out of high school yet; and Monique was a young woman with her own career and a bachelor's degree in business.

Yet they had all spent one year together in high school, had known each other for several years, what was the big? If Monique actually was dating J or T… wouldn't it be their business?

The New Year really didn't seem to be starting out too smoothly.

Now Ron wanted to 'talk'. Ron didn't do the 'talk'. Monique sighed and pulled into the parking lot of Ron's little apartment center.

She honked the horn. Looking around and taking in the contrast between her Pontiac nearly fresh off the lot, and the care-worn Chevy's, Kia's, and Toyota's that made up the parking lot's usual population. Ron's was worst off of all perhaps… that rusted out old explorer. Stoppable really needed to get back into the game, make himself some bank, and get better wheels.

She honked again, realizing more than two minutes had passed while she'd studied the lower-middle-class cars and trucks in the parking lot.

"Boy… today is not the day to be making me wait on my mexi-fix." She grumbled and rapped her nails on the steering wheel.

She was about to honk a third time when her communicator beeped. Text message.

'Wade nos'

"Wade Nitrous Oxide?" Monique blinked at the message and mentally scratched her head. About that time Ron was tapping on her passenger window. She sighed and tapped the unlock button. "Why does Wade have or need go-gas?"

Ron slid in beside her, and eyed the text that was perplexing her. "What does Wade know?"

"Oh snap… Today just keeps getting better. All right Ron, change of plans. Nacos will have to wait."

"Oh Man! I haven't got my Diablo on yet and the year's already two weeks old."

"no cheese…" came a mole-speak whine from Ron's jacket pocket. Rufus poked his head up and looked about, then eyed the troublesome text message.

"Stow it boys." Monique snapped as she put the car into gear.

Ron blinked and hushed. That was harsh, he thought, but he wasn't about to say so when she could easily hit him for it. Rufus ducked back into the jacket and hid his face.

Monique headed for Loaded Technology. Once inside the little consulting lab, the trio stopped the first person they saw.

"Hey, we're looking for Wade er- Mr. Loade." Ron began.

"What do I look like, a receptionist?" The tall blonde turned around, looking more than a little irritated at the mistake. "I can't be a Doctor with a PhD in Robotics just because I'm a woman in heels?"

"Whoa, take it easy Miss Thang. We're just looking for Wade." Monique stepped around, a distinct frown etching her brow. She looked nearly ready to physically ring the answers on Wade's whereabouts from this woman.

Ron blinked, looking between the two women. Monique really seemed to have a chip on her shoulder today. He was about to say something, when he blinked again; this time in confusion, and slowly dawning recognition.

"VF?"

The blonde doctor blinked equally back.

"It's me, Ron! Ron Stoppable?" he wrapped his arms around her in a big impulsive hug.

"Ron! Gosh, I didn't recognize you… You look… great!" Vivian started at the hug and returned it after a surprised moment. She stepped back to better examine the young man who she last remembered as a pasty high school student.

"Thanks! You look spankin' as always." Ron stepped back after a moment and Rufus popped up, nodding enthusiastically and giving the thumbs up. "Oh, this is Monique… Monique, meet Vivian "VF" Porter, Doctor of Robotics. She used to work with KP's dad."

"A pleasure… I'm sure." Monique shook hands, but her frown didn't seem to abate. If anything, she seemed to tense up slightly more.

Ron seemed a bit puzzled. He thought Monique was still uptight about being snapped at by Doctor Porter, but he noticed Monique's eyes going back and forth between Vivian and himself. He was beginning to wonder if the universe were conspiring to confuse him. That happened a lot.

"What's the matter Monique? Too much blonde in one room for you?" He chuckled a bit uneasily, trying to smooth over the moment and pointing to his own short cut hair.

"Yeah… blonde. Anyway, 'VF,' where can we find the owner?" Monique seemed to be scowling slightly as she said the blonde's pseudonym.

"He's uh… down the hall in his office." Vivian seemed suddenly a bit uneasy. She looked from Ron to Monique, and after a moment a very faint smirk rolled over her lips. "oh…"

"Thanks. Come on Ron, let's go," Monique practically dragged Ron down the hall, with the leggy robotacist watching after them and still smirking.

"What did she mean 'oh' little buddy?" Ron whispered into his pocket after a moment. Rufus shrugged up at him. He didn't seem to get it either… That was never a god sign in Ron's eyes.

'get it together girl… what was that all about anyway?' Monique was still pulling Ron along behind her, but her pace had slowed slightly once she was out of the reception area.

She didn't have time to interrogate herself further though, because they came to a door, the door in fact.

'Wade Loade, Owner.'

While Monique was trying to straighten herself up and suddenly seeming much less irritated and much more nervous, Ron just opened the door and went in.

"Wade! Buddy!"

"Huh? Ron! Long time no see!" Wade's dark face was suddenly brightened by a big grin. He got up from behind his desk and came around to shake hands. Ron, used to being quite a bit taller than the computer man, was surprised to be looking him right in the eye.

"Growth spurt?"

"Yeah, kinda…" He chuckled a bit and high-fived Rufus, who scurried up onto his shoulder. He made a bit of a pose to show off his taller and still growing body for the former footballer's approval. "Two inches in four months… what can I say?"

After a moment though, he looked passed Ron and his broad smile faded away at who was standing in the door.

"Monique."

Ron felt the chill in the room like a palpable thing. He thought it might be because the two had once dated, and things had not gone well. Mind control had been involved.

"Wade…" Monique wouldn't meet his eyes. Ron thought this was pretty well opposite to what she'd been like when they'd first come into the lab.

"Am I missing something here? Again?"

"Oh, you mean he doesn't know? Gee Monique… Industrial espionage suits you, you've even got your friends snowballed." Wade practically bristled now, and he walked back around his desk. Pressing a button on its surface; a hologram of what Ron thought was a slightly discolored Ninja with afro-puffs and gold stripes appeared in the air between them. The face was mostly covered by a mask.

"Um… Wade, I can explain." Monique seemed to be wilting as she looked at the hologram.

It took Ron several seconds to put together the brown eyes depicted on the ninja with the ones staring at the floor.

"Waitaminiute! Is that a battle suit?" He pointed from the transparent person to the one standing next to him.

"It is… and apparently it's not the only one."

The image changed. Ron knew those colors all too well. He scowled darkly, and for a very brief moment, his blue eyes seemed to actually glow with an inner energy.

"Shego." He hissed the name slightly. Rufus actually did hiss, clawing towards the hologram.

"Not Shego… too short." Wade went on after a moment, "Can you explain that one too, Monique?"

"Actually…" She blinked in mild confusion. "no."

"So you're not working for Wraith Technologies, Miss Chocolate Ninja?" Wade frowned, but he seemed to bristle just a bit less. He appeared to take her answer honestly. "I suppose Jim and Tim had something to do with your suit. They never did understand the term Intellectual Property."

There was a heavy silence in the room for moment. Ron was looking back and forth between his two friends and the hologram that had made his hackles shoot up. Finally he frowned.

"Monique… why do you have a battle suit?" His tone was almost parental as he stared at her.

After a moment, Wade answered for her. Miss Ninja here has been playing hero."

Ron sighed heavily and flopped into a chair. "Oh Monique… why didn't you tell me?"

"I- I um…" Monique stuttered, a few tears forming at the edges of her brown eyes.

"Well, at first you were still sick Ron… and then later… Well the longer it went on, the harder it got to be to tell you. You know how that is right?" She stared, hoping for absolution, or at least understanding.

"And then there's the theft of property." Wade still seemed irritated at one of his creations being usurped.

"Hey Wade... take it easy." Ron shot back, a little wearily. "Didn't you base your suit on Hephaestus?"

"Yeah, six months ago I bought the rights to it too."

"Oh… Still, I bet Monique has a good reason, right Monique?" he looked over to her hopefully.

"Yeah. I want to find out what happened to Kim. Obviously," She suddenly looked with just a little renewed venom around the occupants of the room, "I'm about the only one."

"And the tweebs are helping you?" Ron tried to lead her into continuing her explanation.

"Yeah… Since the beginning. J and T gave me all sorts of kickin' gear."

"Yeah, they do good work all right. I never would have thought of the spidey-slinger and gloves." Wade conceded after a moment, his frown fading almost completely.

Ron, for his part, frowned with renewed confusion. What were spidey slingers?

"So you weren't at Señor Senior Senior's island over Christmas, and you didn't have me hack Shego's file at Global Justice?"

"No… I was at Mr. and Mrs. P's place with J and T. By the way Ron, we missed you at Dinner."

Ron, the requisite Hebrew in the room, sighed, because it was hard for him to be at the Possible's place… at least since KP had been gone. In the past, he'd spent Christmas at their house after having Chanukah observances with his parents and little sister. Not so much in the year and a half since Kim…

"Okay then… So, the real question is… who is this, and why do they want to be Shego?" Ron pointed at the hologram that was still giving him a case of the hackles; after a moment of introspection at Monique's side comment.

"Yeah, and how did they solve the plasma problem with the suit?" Wade grumbled a bit jealously.

Rufus scurried down off of Wade's shoulder and started pacing around the hologram, rubbing his chin slightly.

"Vivian," Wade pressed his intercom button. "Didn't you design some armor pieces for someone from 'Banshee Personal Protection' before I canceled the contract?"

"Yeah Wade. Slim line night-vision too, damn that was sweet… one of my better jobs. Why?"

"It's looking like we just sold some expensive toys to a criminal, that's why. It looks like Banshee may be 'Wraith Technologies.'"

"Oh crap."

"Yeah, my thoughts too. Look, can you figure a way to track any of that down?"

"I'm on it, cutie."

Wade turned his attention back to Ron and Monique. "Wraith Technologies hired Vivian and I to do some work a few months ago. That's how we hooked up, in fact."

"So I see, 'cutie.'" Monique smirked just a bit. She seemed a bit relieved to be at least partially off the hook.

Wade gave her a sour look and went on. "Yeah. Anyway, they wanted weird stuff… nano-polymers like I used in the battle suit, uranium power packs, neurologic controllers."

"That's why I thought Monique was selling my stuff. I found out about her little 'hobby" two weeks ago, just before I found out about this Green Wraith character. Finding two battle suits based on my design running around when I haven't built one in three years makes a guy kind of paranoid."

"I'm really sorry, I'm sure T and J never would have built me the suit if they knew you'd be this tweaked about it."

"If it's for Kim, I don't care if they stole my left nut." He dismissed her apology and continued.

"I started getting suspicious of Wraith Tech when they wanted me to hack GJE and change records. I dropped them after that and Vivian and I used the money we made from what we did sell them to start Loaded Technology."

"It's a nice place Wade…" Ron nodded and smiled a bit, still eyeing the hologram that slowly rotated, showing the ugly troll-looking character. He wondered if anyone else in the world found it odd that a seventeen year-old boy part-owned a successful consulting business.

"Yeah, the Wraith paid well. Anyway, here's the thing. After wraith asked me to hack Shego's stuff, I found this… Ron… um… I think Wraith may have had something to do with the explosion. They wanted me to get rid of this image. I finally found it last week"

The hologram changed to a grainy photograph that continued to rotate. It took Ron a moment to make out what was being shown to him. "It was taken by a security camera on the roof of the Chicago Board of Trade. Why a security camera was pointing at the sky I have no clue, aside from someone wanting to watch 'the fireworks'."

What the four saw was washed out by a blossom of light that they all painfully recognized. After a moment, a green outline appeared in order to sharpen the blurry edges. It showed a black helicopter with a 'W' on the nose and side.

Ron blinked. He hadn't seen or heard a helicopter that night; and he remembered that night as though someone had written it directly into his brain in indelible ink. Monique though, interrupted his train of thought and derailed the discussion after moment.

"So, how much do you know about what the twins and I do?" She eyed Wade for a moment, wondering if his reputation for knowing things he wasn't supposed to was still valid.

"Enough to know you're more than a little clumsy at it." He smirked, remembering the escapades he'd heard about with her running all about the south-east chasing leads on Shego.

"Oh yee of little faith..." was all she said in response, a wry smirk on her lips.

"Wait wait wait wait!" Ron was looking fairly flustered. "You mean to tell me you've been sitting on this stuff for a week, and you didn't bother to tell anyone? Harsh!"

Wade looked down to the desk for a moment, trying to collect a response. "Well… It's not a lot to go on, really. It's just a helicopter and a bunch of blurry pixels. I… I didn't want to get everyone worked up over a coincidence."

Ron wasn't mollified, but he couldn't come up with a reasonable argument at the moment.

---

Sara was looking at the same picture of tower and copter, brought in from a small backdoor via one of her early emails to Wade and Vivian.

She didn't know that Wade, Ron, Monique, and Rufus were at that moment also looking at the image. Nor was she particularly concerned with the black helicopter hovering in the frame. What she was concerned with getting rid of was far more subtle than the blurry 'copter.

There, near the edge of the building, just below the blossom of orange light atop the sears tower, was a small group of purple and black pixels. That group of pixels was falling onto one of the stepped roofs of the Sears Tower. That group of pixels was supposed to be dead.

The picture needed to be deleted.

She made a note in her PDA to have that taken care of… again. When Wade had abruptly decided he no longer wanted to work for Wraith Technologies, she'd been left slightly in the lurch. Doubly so when he'd hired Vivian Porter out from under her.

It had taken several weeks to head-hunt a hacker approaching Wade's level of expertise. Finding someone who could repair her two prosthetic arms had been only slightly less troublesome. VF's robotic arm technology was years ahead of the prosthetic limbs developed by the medical field specialists who were more concerned with making a light weight power-friendly arm than making one that did what an arm was supposed to do.

Sara stroked her 'dress casual' arm thoughtfully for a moment. Yes, it weighed more than Kim's original left arm had… But it was ninety percent functional, which was far more than could be said for the gaudy beige prosthesis she had worn out of Jefferson County Community Hospital months before.

Briefly Sara thought back more than seven months, to escaping that little rural community clinic.

---June of the previous year---

Sara lay in her hospital bed, waiting. It was three twenty-two in the morning on a warm June morning. The full moon had just crested the horizon and was bathing the lightly forested landscape in silvery light. When the alarm clock next to her monitoring bed had clicked to three twenty-three, she made her move.

She heard the duty nurse down the hall get up to check another patient who had been brought to the hospital's ICU a few days earlier. Once Sara's keen ears told her that the nurse was safely down the hall, she slipped her bare feet out of the bed sheets and nestled them carefully into her slippers.

She then carefully made her way down the hall, avoiding any open doors to adjoining rooms as best she could by darting across them before resuming a slow and cautious pace. She could hear all sorts of sounds in the still of the night; the slow ticking of old mechanical clocks in the hallways taunted her to continue, the rustling of sheets as a sleeping inmate- or patient that would still her heart and her breathing for long seconds. She had almost screamed when the duty nurse's desk phone had rung once and then gone to voice mail.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she made it to the door to the smoking porch. She looked at the alarm clock, which she had pocketed in her robe.

Damn, three twenty-nine… She'd been a little too careful. Too much time had passed. Carefully, she opened the door to the smoking porch, and listened to the swaying breeze outside. Yes… damn it, she could already hear it; the steady thump thump thump of a helicopter approaching.

Sara knew it wasn't life-flight, because if it were the entire hospital would be buzzing with activity, and given its small size she'd be very aware of that. She threw the door open, and darted across the sidewalk towards the Emergency Room doors.

This was the risky part. She could be easily seen now. She threw open the door to the ER, swept over to the nursing station, which was thankfully deserted at the moment just as she'd planned. She threw the small switches that turned on the tarmac lights for the heli-pad just outside. She whirled and darted back out the door, already hearing the footsteps of the ER nurse returning with her coffee.

Back outside, and already panting for breath in excitment, she started to cough violently. She grabbed at her robe, frantically patting both the large front pockets for their contents. In the throes of her violent coughing, it took her a moment to realize that while she was using both hands, only her right would actually report back to her brain if it felt something.

Still coughing hard, gagging now on the phlegm that was being forced up, she irritable thrust her right hand into the left pocket and found the inhaler. She held it to her lips, depressed the little gas cylinder on top, and inhaled deeply.

After a few seconds, her lungs' spasming relaxed slightly, but it was too late. The lights on the tarmac and the noise she had made coughing up her damaged lungs had alerted the ER nurse. She saw the door beginning to open and raised her arms in a combat stance.

Sara didn't associate the suddenly stronger breeze with her ride until it had forced the door of the ER closed in an instant hurricane. She turned, spied the blue and silver private bell-jet copter landing on the tarmac, and wiped at her green eye as it teared up from the dust being blown at her.

She ran towards the chopper, and as the door slid open, she reached up with her left arm to be lifted in. In an embarrassing moment, she gasped as the plastic-coated left arm came free of her stump with an audible pop. She groaned at herself and reached up with her right arm for the other hand being offered. This time she was successfully pulled in, and she snatched the phony arm away from the chagrinned man who had first tried to help her in.

The expensive private helicopter lifted away, ignoring frantic calls from the ER nurse and from local air traffic control. It stayed well under radar level, and Sara could see the light forests of northern Illinois roll by only a few dozen feet below.

She sat back into the jump-seat and inhaled deeply, taking a second hit off of her little inhaler. Allowing the rhythmic thump thump of the helicopter's blades through the heavily insulated cabin to lull her, she rested for several moments before pulling on the headset she was handed. "Miss Smith, welcome aboard… Your new employer is looking forward to more of your information services."

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Author's notes additional; So we're just starting to bring the threads of the story together ;) Why was Monique so pissed off when they got to Loaded Technology? Is Sara Smith ever again going to be Kim Possible? And who broke her out in the first place?

Will the author stop using the Socratic Method and answer these questions in the next chapter? Maybe. Stay tuned next time; Same Kim time, same Kim channel!

Grateful thanks to Windlessuser, who beta-read chapters 11-15 and helped me get some thoughts in order!


	12. Chapter 12

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 12

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: an old acquaintance or three pops up.

Now, on with the Story...

The Green Wraith was slowly drawing the index finger of her claw-tipped right hand along the faint outline of the armored door before her. Every few seconds she could feel the digit slow as it came through one of the hardened steel pins that held the door closed.

Finally the bubbling seam she had widened in the door frame rejoined itself. Grinning, Sara sank her talons into the steel edges of the door and grunted. Even with the help of her expensive armor, this fucker was heavy.

She tossed it heavily to the side and then dusted her gauntlets off on each other. As soon as she'd stepped inside she heard bullets whizzing past her, and felt the spatter from them as they impacted the opposite wall. She stepped back quickly and paused to reassess.

"Damn, guard in the safe! That's a new one. Oh well… That's why I have these." She snapped the fingers of both gauntlets and they flared to life. The energy that surrounded them didn't behave exactly like fire, but it was a good enough analogy.

"Time for a barbeque!" She stepped back into the vault just as its guard was peering out to locate her. She punched him fairly soundly in the chest.

The force of her strength-enhanced blow would have been enough to knock the wind out of him on any day, but the heat of her plasma-armored fist momentarily surrounded his chest in a wreath of green and black, and he dropped in a sweaty, gasping heap. A moment later he was breathing slowly in unconsciousness, and Sara inhaled the rewarding scent of ozone in the air.

"God I love the smell of plasma in the morning… smells like Victory!" She clapped her gauntlets together and they winked out.

Grinning, she began sinking her talons into the vault's walls. Every time she withdrew her hand, there was a safety deposit box in her grasp. Quickly she had a small pile of them in the center of the vault floor.

Finally she came to the last of the numbers on her short list, and ripped that deposit box free of the wall as well. Next she returned to the pile of long narrow boxes, and plunged her armored index finger through the lock set of each. The doors popped open and revealed their contents deliciously.

Dumping the contents of the boxes into a sack, she grinned. "Mmmmm, good haul Sara! Loose jewels always fence well. And the bearer bonds! Bonus! Ka-ching!"

She heard the standard whoop whoop of European police sirens approaching, and nodded to herself. They were right on schedule, and so was she. She set her loot carefully behind her, and then held both gauntlets in front of her.

Moving her fingers just so told the onboard computer what she wanted to do. A whine filed the air, and a ball of energy formed between her clawed fingers. When it reached a certain size, she pressed her arms forward. Again the computer complied with the implied instruction, and a blast rocketed forth.

Sara had learned her lessons on physics already. The last time she had tried this, she had closed the vault door behind her; and nearly been deafened as well as incinerated by the back-blast. This time though, all the exploding gasses rocketed around her and out the open vault door.

Ginning, she stepped through the smoldering hole in the back wall of the bank vault, turned to the left, and found her green crotch rocket right where she'd left it. She purred as the engine spun to life between her thighs, and thought that she deserved a reward for another job well done. Time to hit the clubs!

---Three weeks later---

'So… …back in Middleton.'

She hadn't been here for any length of time since her brothers had managed to get their alignment switched, along with hers, some three years ago now. Then, she'd spent a few weeks here. She'd finally put her child development degree to use during that time ironically… substitute teaching.

Shego shuttered at the thoughts of some of the things that had gone on back then. Being a whipped, sappy, happy school-girl type. Teaching a class while giggling almost non-stop. Being unable to make some of the simplest decisions for herself. Dating "Stevie!" She shuddered again at the memory of that up-tight banjo playing dork.

Then again, it hadn't been all bad, had it? She'd spent a lot of time with Kimmie, even lived with her. In fact, had she not been fortunate to get turned back to her bad old self, she would have confessed… what?

Shego rubbed the bridge of her nose as she knelt there in the chill of an early march morning. A lot of things from that final day were still fuzzy; the after affect of having her good/evil alignment reversed at least a dozen times.

Lately she was feeling a lot like that again. It was as though her poles were flip-flopping, and she couldn't nail down which impulses were hers, and which belonged to that saccharine 'Miss Go,' or to her Kim-conscious.

She reached down and touched the simple headstone before her, and quietly cursed the occupant sleeping six feet below. "Damn you Kimmie… Vengeance is a hell of a lot more fun when you know why you're doing it."

The words on the stone gave no reply. 'In memory of Kimberly Anne Possible: Daughter, Sister, Hero'

Briefly, Shego considered blasting away the soil atop the grave and wringing the answers out of the corpse. She had to forgo this impulse when she remembered that her Princess's remains were never recovered from the rubble at the top of Sears Tower.

'you know… you never did tell me when I started being your princess.'

Shego grumbled and drew her old alligator-skin trench coat more tightly around herself against the chill of the early spring morning. "I thought you decided you were going to be me for a while."

She looked up to her left, picturing Kim standing there next to her. It was somehow easier than talking to herself; or to a cold granite marker.

'nah. green is definitely not my color, even if it is the 'new black.' The imaginary Kim chuckled a bit and kicked at the headstone.

"So, you going to tell me why I'm running all over the world avenging you?"

'you going to tell me why I'm always your kimmie?'

"Well, for one… you are in my head, you know." Shego smirked at the ethereal Kim and tapped herself on the temple.

The transparent Kim stuck her tongue out at Shego. 'that's an excuse and you know it.'

"Yeah… well Nana Go always said it was alright to talk to yourself, as long as you didn't answer. So that's my story and I'm sticking to it."

'fine… have it your way.' Ethereal Kim stamped her foot petulantly and turned away slightly.

"Jesus, I can't believe I'm arguing with a figment of my imagination." The mercenary shook her head and rubbed the bridge of her nose again.

"Fine… Fine… Any insight you'd like to share from the other world about something useful? Such as where GJE is hiding the guys who killed you; or who this green wraith character is?"

She looked up to the ghostly Kim, who turned back finally to respond, still pouting just like the real Kim would have in her place. 'yeah… she seemed kind of familiar huh? I'll have to look into that.'

"You mean I'll have to look into that." Shego grumbled a bit. She rubbed the back of her neck slowly in memory of the pain that demon had inflicted. Even with her faster-than-normal healing, she'd worn a neck brace for a week afterwards.

Now she stuck her tongue out at her imaginary Kim and smirked, "You know, you may be sweet and all. But you can be a real bitch sometimes, you know that?"

Ethereal Kim huffed and looked greatly offended, 'and here I was going to tell you to look out behind you. see if I help you out again.'

"Look out behind me?" Shego turn around in confusion just in time to see someone tall and skinny, clad in a dark blue jumpsuit, raising a rifle towards her. "Shit!"

She leapt to one side as a bullet raised a clod of dirt where her feet had been. The round very effectively defiled Kim's empty grave when it ricocheted, chipping of a corner of the headstone and pinging loudly through the solemn silence of the cemetery.

"That's it! Now you've really pissed me off!" both Shego and her imaginary Kim shouted in unison.

---

Sara groaned and smacked her face, dragging her flesh and blood hand down it; distorting her features as an act of shear incredulity. She'd come to the club here in London to unwind and have some of the finest cognac this side of Alsace Larraine. She'd even gotten dressed up in one of her more expensive Lord and Taylor black dresses, the one with the long sleeves, just to treat herself.

She'd had two jobs in a row go sour on her, and she needed to reexamine and refresh. So she picked out a new posh high-brow club, put on this sharp dress, and had taken a seat to order a drink.

The woman who was coming to serve her was the source of her, or rather of Kim's, consternation. This was the last woman she'd expect to see taking drinks orders and serving drinks, even if those drinks did cost up to 60 Euros a glass.

She had skin so unnaturally tan that it briefly brought to mind George Hamilton and Coppertone. Her icey blue eyes seemed to have lost a lot of their… …ice, however. That was strangely refreshing to Sara's lone jade eye.

The server was wearing a sleek red dress that covered her long legs, but bared her honey-brown arms and shoulders. This was quite the opposite of what Sara would expect the former queen bee of Middleton High to wear. She had been so proud of those legs back then, constantly flaunting them, crossing and uncrossing her knees on home-game Fridays when they'd have to wear their short-skirted uniforms to class.

So in short; this was, and yet was not, Bonnie Rockwaller. Sara quickly rested her hands in her own lap and smiled the most obsequious, polite smile she could, one that would have done the old Bonnie proud. This might work out just fine after all; since she was, and yet was not, Kim Possible.

Bonnie, for her part, stepped up and cleared her throat politely. She'd worked three years on her Cambridge accent, and it was getting good enough to fool the continentals at least; maybe not the natives of London and the British Isles, but at least those Europeans and other tourists who would occasionally come in to the club.

She smiled in the polite, functional manner that all her native coworkers did, and was about to ask for her newest patron's order. She took in the woman with a glance, as her customer was turned slightly away, and decided she looked like a good tipper.

When the woman turned to respond though, Bonnie could not, despite all her professionalism, hide her shock. The woman had seemed perfectly lovely, with irish-red hair and green eyes, and wearing a pricey tailored black dress, even though it was only three in the afternoon…

"Eye- I… May… May I take your order this evening Madame?" Bonnie couldn't help but stare with her own perfectly formed blue eyes, at the black satin patch and thickened red skin where the emerald eye she had not seen should be.

Sara's response was not quite a coy smile, and not quite a triumphant smirk, but was something directly in between. She folded her white gloved hands on the table before her, her long black dress's sleeves retreating into the cuffs of the gloves in order to disguise completely the fact that one was not the arm she'd been born with. She shifted slightly, crossing her legs and turning to face Kim's long-time nemesis.

She noted very rapidly that despite judiciously applied makeup; three years of sun, and presumably servitude in this high-class club, had worn fine lines around Bonnie's eyes. She viciously toyed with ideas to make those lines somewhat deeper.

"Ah, a fellow American here in the Kingdom." She grinned. She was going to needle this washed-up hen for all of the things that she'd put Kim through throughout six years of cheerleading. She began dropping hints like bread crumbs.

Bonnie tried to smile; tried desperately to pull her attention away from the malformation on the woman's face. "Why yes… California, and yourself Miss?"

"California also… you sound like you're from the mountains… Upperton?"

Bonnie jumped on this like a starving woman on a bowl of porridge. Anything to discuss; to concentrate on other than that absent orb, "Oh yes… You're good. I can't quite place your accent though."

She lied smoothly. She was not about to admit from being from that middle-class suburb Middleton.

She studied her patron up and down again. She noted the woman's pale skin, which held only a very faint tan. This brought her eyes again to her customer's short red hair. 'So she must be a real redhead, not bottled, with skin like that.'

"Oh, that's because I travel a lot dear. It tends to blur one's speech after a while. Hell, we may have run into each other in the past." Sara chuckled deeply. She knew not a soul credited her with more than a passing resemblance to her body's former owner. And Bonnie was far too shallow, in her opinion, to credit her with even remotely resembling Kim Possible.

"Ah, of course. Which is why you're here." Bonnie smiled politely. She was very carefully concentrating on not kneading the menu into a small origami frog, concentrating too hard to notice that she was bobbing slightly from foot to foot nervously.

"So, what would you like to drink this evening?"

Sara already knew what she wanted, aside from pestering Rockwaller into an early case of female-pattern baldness. Still, she held out her hand for the menu; her left hand.

Bonnie pressed the menu softly into the proffered hand. She was shocked, in the fairly intimate quiet of the upper-class club, to hear a very faint clicking as the guest's fingers closed around it. She looked at the woman's arm subtly, or at least what she hoped was subtly, for signs of a watch or some heavy bracelet.

Sara's half-smirk returned as she took the menu and opened it. She was well aware of the very faint noises her 'casual' arm made, despite its craftsmanship. She made sure Bonnie could see her lone green eye scanning the menu as well; back and forth, back and forth.

After a long moment, she passed it back to Bonnie, again with her left hand. She deeply enjoyed watching the bronze-skinned server search for the source of the sound. "I think the Louis XIII Champagne Cognac."

"Of course… I'll be right back with that Miss…" Bonnie turned on her heel as if it were a pivot set into the flooring. She moved away as quickly as she could from the mysterious woman at the table. This was just totally weirding her out.

Sara noticed that Bonnie's full hips had lost any of the confident sway they had once held as Bonnie retreated post-haste. She chuckled and wondered if that was due to Bonnie's time spent waiting tables, or the shock value of her own appearance.

Then she blinked, not so much taken aback as surprised at her train of thought. Kim never would have noticed the sway in Bonnie's hips; never had in fact, beyond feeling disgusted at her rival's flaunting. 'well… hmmm… this is new.'

She grinned slowly; not only did she have a new weapon in her arsenal to turn against the defunct cheerleader, but she could also test out a long-held theory about her rival.

When she saw her honey-toned server and nemesis returning, she leaned forward ever so slightly and pressed her arms together in a fairly calculated manner. She had carefully combed her bobbi-cut red hair down to cover most of her absent left eye, and smiled warmly and invitingly.

"Mmmmm, that smells lovely even from hear, dear." She practically purred the words, her green eye twinkling and she entwined her own fingers. Her eye, however, was not on the nearly purple glass of expensive drink, but on the blue eyes of her server.

Unfortunately for Sara's plot, and very fortunately for Bonnie, her phone chirped. She pulled it out of her small handbag and looked at it, not bothering this time to note Bonnie's reaction to the sounds that her mechanical hand made.

"Shit." She cursed under her breath. She pulled out a hundred Euro note and laid it on the table. "We'll have to share drinks and tales of home another night… Work beckons for now, so keep the change… Oh, and Bonbon… You might want to spend a little time in the shade every now and then."

As the woman in the black dress and white gloves left, Bonnie felt as if she had just been picked up and spun about the room by her ankles several times. Her voice was such a horse whisper that she wasn't sure she actually made a sound as she held the 37 Euro tip and bar tab in one hand, the drink in the other.

"Bonbon? Kim?"

She took half the sixty-three Euro cognac in one gulp, not sure if she would pass out before or after the boss yelled at her for drinking in front of customers.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's notes additional: Okay, right off the bat phew Damn my muse. The first edit of this section came out at 4,000+ words

Grateful thanks to Windlessuser, who beta-read chapters 11-15 and helped me get some thoughts in order!


	13. Chapter 13

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 13

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Snipers and shrapnel and tombstones, oh my!

Now, on with the Story...

Plasma bolts ripped through the air of an early march morning. The twin comets of green energy ripped through the air towards their intended target; the tall slender man who was that target dove to one side just in time to allow them to sizzle past and on into the California sunshine.

Shego scowled and cursed as she ducked back down behind the tombstone. Suddenly, she was grateful that Kim's parents had chosen a broad low rose-granite marker rather than some skinny obelisk or a ground plate. The pink stone was doing a good job of stopping what her trained ear identified as high-powered rifle rounds.

'Pop, bang, wiz' went another bullet, grazing the top corner of Kim's now pock-marked memorial. They were good. Shego knew there must be two, because the man with the rifle was able to keep on top of her wherever she moved, which meant he must have a spotter.

He'd have taken her head off with that shot if she'd been a fraction slower in ducking after her own return shot. She cursed herself for letting her skills go soft. In the two years Team Possible had been largely ignoring her and Dr. D, she'd let herself get soft. Her keenly honed mercenary edge had dulled without the challenge of her red-haired nemesis and the others who followed her about.

'that, and you're getting old.' She thought it petulantly as she tried to peek around the corner. She was definitely not old; but she was already into her early thirties, as she was loathed to admit. She'd first fought with Kim and the doofus six, maybe seven years ago… She'd been twenty-five then, and already at the top of the hired-gun field then. Now she was as close to washed-up as a mercenary could get and still be breathing. The only thing keeping her alive now were skills and knowledge she'd not called on in years.

'pop, bang, zing, crumble'

"Sunuvabitch! I wish that'd just give it up and use a grenade or something." Shego growled as she inhaled more than a little granite dust and vaporized copper. She could deal with hand grenades. It was a simple matter, if one kept their head, to pick one up and throw it back in the requisite three seconds.

Rifle rounds were another thing… the people hunting her could carry dozens in a relatively small package, and just wait for a lucky shot.

'pop, bang, splotch'

"FUCK!" Just like that one. Shego hissed and looked down. There was a ragged line across her sleeve where one rifle round had just grazed her upper arm. She grabbed at the wound and tried to feel the bullet. There was no burning lump under the slash, so it must have passed straight through. Creased the skin damned well though.

She smelled scorched skin and blood, and grunted, pressing her back to the granite slab. She didn't have time to sit around and concentrate on letting her skin heal itself with the aid of her comet-powers. She did the next best thing. Triage.

Hissing, she dragged one talon along the wound and gritted her teeth as the scent of burning flesh intensified. Finally she drew away the sizzling digit and tried to ignore the gore on its tip. She checked to make sure the bullet's trail was well cauterized Shego knew that the few seconds she had taken to stop the bleeding cost her and she could only imagine how much distance had been closed between her and her pursuers.

This intuition was proved when yet another bullet pinged off the concrete sidewalk just ahead of her, leaving a long streak in the pathway. Shego used the knowledge the impact gave her and leapt into the air, holding an arm out to each side and firing bolts in opposite directions, still unable to tell from which side the bullet had come. She heard a grunt as she landed on top of the pitted headstone.

"Got you didn't I, you son of a bitch?" She wheeled about quickly and scanned the area. She saw her man, the tall slender shooter, toppled over and grabbing his thigh. She was about to turn both hands on him and finish the job, gritting her teeth, not having time to relish the triumph.

'Shego you can't!'

"Shut up princess, I don't have time for an inner dialogue. Besides, if you hadn't noticed, he was about to do the same to us! DOUBLE FUCK!" Shego half-screamed as she felt a round hit her own thigh, toppling her from her memorial-turned-perch.

She'd been an idiot. In the split second she'd stopped on her wide-open vantage point, the spotter had drawn his backup weapon and put a round in her leg. She hadn't heard a report, so it must have been a silenced weapon. She pressed a palm to the entrance wound. There was no exit, and it wasn't actively spurting her life's blood onto the ground. So it hadn't passed through, or fragmented; probably a pistol. This was what years of first fighting, and then being, the villain told her about her injury.

Didn't mean it didn't burn like the devil's own dick in her though. She scurried for cover again. Another handy grave marker served for that. She tried to remember what she could of sniper teams. The shooter and the spotter usually stayed close as possible to one another. That meant that if she just…

'p'tang' another silenced pistol round whipped by and caromed off a nearby marker. The handgun wouldn't be accurate from more than a hundred yards, and the silencer would only throw it off more. Shego thought about all of these things in the span of a few seconds, killer instincts still working well enough after these years to keep her wits about her at least.

She took a few deep breaths, concentrating. Her eyes, to the outside observer, would begin to glow green, obscuring their normal caramel coloring. Focusing inwardly, she drew all the energy she could muster towards her core. She didn't have the time this would take, but she couldn't make a run for it with a round in her thigh either. Six of one, half dozen of the other. She'd be damned if she'd be run down like a rabid dog.

Once she felt she'd drawn enough power, she tried to imagine where the spotter would be based on what she vaguely remembered of the cemetery layout.

Grunting, she rose to her feet, swung her arms out in front of her, and felt her hands burn from within as they channeled what she had pooled of her powers. She was concussed back slightly by the blast of two massive plasma spheres that rocketed forth from her gloved palms.

At the same moment that she heard the scream of the spotter being incinerated, she let out a shriek of her own as a high-powered rifle round slammed through her gut. The force of the impact, along with her own blast-induced fall dropped her again behind the headstone. She realized her mistake as she took in what would be her last sight, the headstone of Kim Possible's grave. Ironic.

If she'd remembered that the shooter wasn't dead, she wouldn't be about to take his place. A burned thigh was not fatal as she'd hoped, though the hole she could feel literally bored through her midsection certainly would be. She felt the blood pooling against her belly, and on either side of her black and green tunic, front and back. It was a disturbing warm and sticky sensation.

She'd just spent all her power to kill one of the two hunting her, so there was no hope to even try to heal the grievous wound; and plunging her hand into her gut to cauterize it would prove equally as fatal even if she could muster the power to ignite her hand again.

Shego lay there, waiting to either bleed to death or be finished off by the hobbled shooter. She figured her life should be flashing before her eyes about now, and prepared to be confronted by all manner of ghosts.

As spots started forming at the edges of her vision, she could swear she heard struggling. She attributed this to auditory hallucinations brought on by blood loss. Even at the edge of death, years of experience refused to let her stop taking stock.

So, this was how she was going out, huh? A washed up mercenary hearing voices from a dead cheerleader and seeing delusions of a chocolate-colored ninja standing over her. Funny how life worked out, or failed to.

---

Sara smith was not a happy thief at the moment. She was sitting across from Gregor Lubinsky, 'the iceman,' and she did not like what he was telling her.

Gregor, a Russian from somewhere outside of the ancient capitol of Kiev, was called the iceman because of his pale blue eyes and white hair. Not to mention his attitude when dealing with… well, anything. He was so cold and calculating in his demenor that he bore none of the requisite tattoos common to Russian mobsters. People feared him enough without having to see Orthodox Christian symbols and the faces of dead soviet-era leaders inked into his skin.

"Uranium 235 is not cheap Miss Smith. Your last purchase was a special discount extended to you as a courtesy to Mister Mulholland. I will not trouble you with the details of why he had warranted such a favor, but needless to say, you are not in the same position."

A green eye and a black satin eye patch scowled in equal measure at the cool Russian mobster. He showed no notice or care at the expression. "Two grams will cost you approximately seven hundred and fifty thousand American dollars. Take it, or leave it, as you Yankees say."

She wondered why he insisted on using such corny cliché terms. His English was nearly flawless, and he hardly needed the affectation of sounding like a character out of a badly written spy novel to get his point across.

"That's a lot of money for some hot rocks. I'm sure the Iranians or the Koreans or the Pakistani's would be happy to sell me the same for half that." She knew it wasn't true. She wondered if he would, though.

"What, you'll tell them you're Canadian; and hope they don't bother to find out your American and then shoot you for your trouble? Even if they cared to be swindled so." He again spoke slowly and evenly, no hint of anything other than professional calculation in his voice.

"Point." She admitted, trying not to grit her teeth. His cool, precise maneuvering was beginning to work her already short temper. Her right hand rapped its fingers rhythmically on the table top between them as she considered her next move.

She had barely that much money left in her savings accounts, and two bungled heists had drained the Wraith suit's power reserves. She needed the small pebbles of Uranium to drive the plasma powers and nano-bots of the suit; but the iceman was right, at the moment being an American was a detriment to her. She couldn't go to the world's other purveyors of nuclear material without much more risk.

She also knew that her feminine wiles wouldn't work on the iceman any more than her temper would, or she would already be caressing her foot up and down the inside of his thigh. The man could buy and sell women as easily as uranium or heroin; a one-eyed mercenary was hardly worth his effort. This was what her last employer, the arms-trading Mulholland, had told her when she'd been sent to meet with the mobster previously. Her impression of the man was that that was a fairly accurate assessment.

"Fine," She finally responded, meeting his icy blue eyes with her hard emerald one, "Half now, half on delivery."

"Three quarters now, and in Euros." He countered smoothly.

"Three quarters tomorrow, in Euros. Do I look like the kind of Yankee to just carry that kind of cash in her purse?" She held up the small, expensive black handbag as way of demonstration.

"Point, as you say." He finally smirked. "I like you Miss Smith, So many of your countrymen think that they run the world like they did in the old days. They did not then, and they do not now."

She sighed inwardly as the iceman again resorted to the cliché affected speech. "And I don't like you Mister Lubinsky. But I respect you… Most of your countrymen would be stupid enough to try to double-cross me and sell me into the brothel market."

"Bah, I would not get fifty rubles for a one eyed, one armed American. Even if she is still a virgin."

Sara felt like a knife had been shoved into her gut. Did he know? Or was he just tossing off quips?

No, she knew Gregor didn't play the same verbal games that Shego and other American villains did. He said what he meant, and meant what he said. She just didn't need to let him know he had hit a nerve.

"But I'm so good with my hands…"

She smirked and made her prosthetic hand ratchet open and closed for emphasis. This earned her a chuckle from the iceman, even if it was a hollow chuckle that didn't reach his cool eyes. She extended her good hand to the man to seal the deal.

"And thank you for coming all the way to London, Mister Lubinsky," She added, "I wish all my business partners were as considerate. As way of returning the consideration, might I recommend a little club near Cambridge? There's a charming Yankee girl there I think you would enjoy. She's quite a bit more pleasant to look at than I seem to be. Don't let her fake accent fool you, she's a California girl; and I do know how much you enjoy those."

"Ah, so I am not the only one with secret knowledge about the bedroom life of others. Thank you for the tip." Again the false chuckle, the still cold eyes. Yet the deal was sealed, and she had just proved to the mobster that she could hold her own in negotiations, without the help of a wealthy backer. Now she just had to wrangle five hundred sixty thousand Euros in twenty-four hours.

She also had to figure out how to get Bonbon out of London now that she had seemingly sold her nemesis out. Sex-slavery was not something she would wish on her worst enemy; yet that was what she had just done.

---

Ron was feeling very ambivalent. He absolutely loathed being here. The empty grave and bad memories were enough to make the fine pock-marks on his face and hands tingle sympathetically for that night on Sears Tower. Kim's memories weren't here for him, at least not the good ones. It was an empty memorial that signified very little to him personally, and he hated it for that.

On the other hand, the thought of someone firing off a weapon at KP's figurative resting place was enough to get his hackles up. He wanted to be in there, not sitting with the car in the morning sunshine outside the front gate. When Monique's police scanner had come back with the report of gunfire at Peaceful Meadows, there'd been no question of his riding along even if he wasn't allowed to help out.

On the third hand… which must be Rufus's, since he only had two of his own; He was getting tired of waiting by the car when things like this came up. Two bank robberies and a jewel heist Monique had stopped since she'd revealed to him her night job, and he'd had to wait in the car for each.

When during the last year and a half had he gone from being sidekick to a near-superhero to being a valet? It was so not fair. Just because Monique had a battle-suit and he didn't…

He heard a few faint pops, and his head immediately rose towards the gate of the cemetery. He knew those sounds all too well, everyone in the world-saving business did.

"silencers, mmhmm mmhmm." Rufus said forlornly from his pocket.

"I know buddy, and we both know those suits aren't bullet proof, no matter what they make the wearer feel like."

"no... hu-uh…"

Ron scowled, torn between going to help Monique, and not wanting to face the pink rose-granite of KP's headstone. There was a faint green flash suddenly, and hat broke the indecision. His scowl turned to an absolute sneer.

"Shego…" He was already starting towards the cemetery gate when a second, much larger flare of green light lit the area. It was about as big a flare as he could ever remember seeing, but it completely failed to bring any trepidation to him. "Hmmm, she's pissed too."

He frowned to himself and his mole-rat cohort as they entered the cemetery proper. He scurried down the rows towards where he instinctively knew Shego must be. Where else would Kim's nemesis be but at her headstone?

Or what was left of it.

Ron was deeply… something… at the sight of the pock-marked grave marker. It was hard to say exactly what emotions he felt at seeing the formerly glistening rose colored headstone reduced to a crumbling mass of stone. Outrage was there, and disgust. So too was a dull ache for Kim that still came to him every day, and an emptiness at knowing she wasn't really here.

He saw a trickle of deep crimson rolling down the intact side of the headstone. It rolled over the remains of the words "-ister, Hero"

Ironic; two things Shego used to be, well one thing she technically still was.

Ron didn't have time for irony though. He hit the dirt, and barely missed crushing a scurrying Rufus beneath him when a louder pop sounded nearby.

It was still silenced, but it was definitely loud enough to grab his attention. Rufus sniffed the air and kicked a few shell casings that lay near Ron. Finally he pointed.

"there, over there!" he chirred excitedly.

Ron followed the tiny pointing paw and saw a dark blue form crouched with a long rifle. He scowled, or made whatever the next expression up from scowling was, putting together the spent cartridges with the gunman. Taking pot-shots at KP's grave was not kosher, no matter who this guy was shooting at.

"---- you bitch! Oh damnit, another one!" He half-heard what the man was muttering, and noticed that one of his pant legs was burned away, along with a good chunk of hide. He saw the guy chambering another round into his bolt-action rifle, and decided this guy was an assassin, not a law-enforcement officer.

Ron crouched and half-crawled, half-ran his way down the isle of headstones. He paused at the last stone before the one the gunman was behind and steeled himself; it'd been a while since he'd done what he was about to.

"Geronimo!" The assassin just had time to look up from his crouched position when Ron threw his shoulder down and charged. He started to bring his silenced rifle around, but wasn't quick enough.

Ron's lowered shoulder caught the slender shooter under the chin. The former football man used the contact to lift him up and slam him into the headstone that he was using for cover with a heavy and satisfying thud like he hadn't felt since playing for The Rush. Fortunately this time he was the one doing the hitting.

The rifle was twisted out of the gunman's grasp as Ron dropped back from him. He spun it around like a club; the silencer making it too long for Ron to turn the business end on the sniper in such close quarters. He was about to bring it down for good sturdy blow when he realized there was no need.

Apparently the combination of his scorched thigh, the shot to his chin, and being body-checked into a tombstone was too much for the shooter; leaving him in an unresponsive heap on the ground. Ron dropped the rifle-turned-club and rested his hands on his knees, catching his breath from the rush of activity.

He rose up after a second, and turned to survey the scene. He saw a mocha-and-gold clad figure standing nearby, looking down at a black boot whose attached leg and body was obscured by yet another headstone. She turned, tugging down the mask of her battle suit and called to him.

"Ron, over here!" Monique beckoned him and pointed to the obscured figure. As he made his way towards her, he was assaulted by the sight and stench of what was presumably a second shooter, incinerated beyond all recognition. He stepped well-wide around it and finally came to see who Monique was pointing to.

Shego lay there, looking far greener and more pale than usual. She also lay in a pool of her own blood on the concrete path, which was coming from wounds in her thigh and belly as near as Ron could tell. It took a moment for him to see the very shallow rise and fall of her chest.

"So what should we do? She's not going to last long like this." Monique was now kneeling over her, using the lenses built into her face mask to check her over as best she could. It didn't help that she really didn't know the first thing about first aid.

Ron was quiet for a long moment, glowering angrily at the felled mercenary. "Leave her… let the meat-wagon sort them out."

Monique looked up at him in utter shock. She could tell by the look in his blue eyes that Ron was seriously proposing leaving her to bleed to death, or to be at the mercy of Police who had yet to arrive. Where were they anyways? It had to be twenty minutes since the APB they'd heard in the car.

"You can't be serious… Ron?" She watched him, but his expression didn't change. "We're the good guys Ron, we don't let people die when we can do something about it."

"Hello? Scars… contusions, mind control chips, evil fake boyfriends, blow-out eardrums… Dead Best Friend?" He looked at her incredulously, as though she wasn't getting what Shego had tried to do to them time after time, right up until the last time.

"Did Shego kill Kim?" was all she responded with, a hint of anger in her voice as she tried to figure out how best to stop the mercenary's bleeding. She knew Ron knew the answer to that as much as about anyone did.

"No." he admitted weakly, trying to suppress the automatic flashbacks that question triggered. He'd already convinced himself that she'd been running from Kim that night, not because of an impending explosion.

"Would Kim leave her here to die?"

"…no…"

"Good, then help me pick her up, I don't hear no ambulances coming, and she needs help PDQ." Monique could easily pick the taller woman up with the help of the suit; but she was awkwardly long, so Ron grabbed her legs to help steady her.

Eventually they had her laid in the back of Monique's Navigator, and were headed to a small nearby hospital.

A few well placed favors, and more money than Ron knew Monique had access to; and privacy was ensured, gunshot reporting-laws or no.

---

Anne Possible positively boggled at the email she was reading.

"Anne,

I've enclosed some MRI and PET scan images from a case I was forwarded. They come from an escaped amnesia patient with linear event-specific amnesia. I know you're retired but this one has got me stumped. Send me back your thoughts; I'm thinking Direct Brain Stimulation as a treatment course?

Dr. Stan Oblongatta, Ph. D

PS, Congratulations on expecting… Name her after me? ;)"

The attached scans were very interesting indeed. Whoever this S. Smith was, they had a lot of unusual, highly clustered damage. The Hypothalamus had several small darkened specks where there was damaged or dead tissue. There were also spots of damage on the Amgydala.

These two regions controlled the reaction systems of the brain, and the physical manifestations of emotion. People with damage here often couldn't control impulses towards violence and aggression. Anne knew that if someone suffered injury here, they either had an always-on or always-off reaction to stimulus, making them either gray and sluggish, or hyper-vigilant and violent.

But there was also damage in the forebrain, where reasoning and the action/reward structures were, as well as in the neo-cortex. And there was a small amount of spotting deep in the Hippocampus, the memory control center.

Escaped amnesia patient indeed. Anne wasn't certain, but injuries like this would likely create an amoral adrenaline junkie who never learned to change his behavior; or possibly a homicidal sociopath, or a vegetable. It was hard to tell with brain injuries. What killed one person might not manifest any symptomology in another.

She sighed and began typing her response. She wanted to know what had caused such spotty, decentralized injuries, and what symptoms the patient exhibited. She was surprised that a person could survive injuries like these for any length of time, as they bespoke oxygen deprivation, not physical trauma or disease pathology.

"Dr. O,

Looked over the scans, who is this? How did you even get consultation on a amnesia patient ward of the state? Brain surgery on the rich and famous too boring without me around to sew?

Male or Female? Age? The usual particulars? The edges of your scans cut off most of the patient data on the readouts I'm afraid.

What symptoms does this patient exhibit? How about results from a Minnesota Multiphase Personality Profile? Are there any motor difficulties? I don't see any motor cortex damage in your attachments, pretty odd for OxyDep?

DBS might work, but implanting so many electrodes would have a very unattractive risk profile. Have you considered chip bypass implantation instead? I know it's in its infancy, but it might work better with such decentralized damage.

And no, the baby is fine, just not quite ready to come out yet. We are not naming her Stan, or Oblongata.

Looking forward to your response;

Anne Possible

Director; Kim Possible Memorial Scholarship Foundation"

Anne sat back and rubbed her extremely swollen belly. She was so big that she almost felt like she was carrying twins again, God forbid! Two weeks couldn't come soon enough for her, or for the hyperactive new little Possible somersaulting in her uterus. But since she couldn't really leave the house at this point, at least she now had some distraction.

She felt Mim shift slightly in her belly and sighed, knowing that Stan always responded to his email within minutes. The man was a junkie for his little "crackberry." She just hoped Mim didn't decide to make her eat another quart of chocolate ice cream between now and when he responded.

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Author's notes additional: Well, this is a major change, I had already written chapters 12-15 once… but I scrapped them and started over… Thanks to both my beta-readers Windlessuser and Wolfschlitzen for their feedback on both versions. Now on to chapter 14!


	14. Chapter 14

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 14

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Brain scans, motorcycles, and catharsis.

Now, on with the Story...

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Al Norm was once again livid. This was becoming a common mind-frame for him, he realized; so he jotted it angrily onto a note pad along with a tiny graph, and stuck that to a white board. This made it normal and proper for him to be livid like this, and he almost instantly relaxed. If his mind worked a bit less linearly, this would seem entirely counter-intuitive, and would have caused him to become livid once more.

Thus relaxed in such a wholly odd manner, he picked up a clipboard.

Jared "Shorty" Stout was sitting on a chair in front of him. He sat unusually straight. This was the result of the back braces that immobilized the wounded ribcage of the GJE man. His thigh was braced as well, and held stiffly in front of him for support, padded thickly with bandages that crinkled audibly whenever he moved the aggrieved limb.

Norm made a few quick calculus strokes on one of his beloved clipboards, and thus, it was done.

"Yes yes… it makes perfect sense now. The areas of chaos would seek each other out. Of course…" His unwilling pupil tried vainly to ignore him. He hated lecture time, almost as much as he hated the itchy braces supporting his wounded frame. Damn that kid's tackle…

"Do not despair lad… You were merely acting agents to bring about an area of stability on the plotting board of life." His grin was a silly peaceful grin aimed at the surviving agent, as though his pain were exactly what fate had willed. The death of the man's longtime partner was just statistics in action, in Norm's opinion.

Being spectacularly incinerated was also merely the method of that statistical probability, not a slight against Norm's chosen methodology.

Spinning almost gleefully, he turned and began writing with sweeping strokes on a gridded whiteboard. After a few moments of squeaking dry-erase markers across it, he'd come to a conclusion he found completely befitting his own point of view.

"Ninety-nine point eight percent chance that Shego and Monique will now successfully hunt down our Green Wraith for us. And a seventy-two percent chance that all of them will be killed in the process! Beyond that there is the likelihood that the Green Wraith will die! Odds of that not happening are…" Dr. Norm used his favorite term in the English or Mathematic languages with glee, "Mathematically Insignificant!"

He clapped his hands together and eyed his wounded stooge. "Now, we just need to make sure certain that Shego and Monique die as well."

He spun around and made more plottings. Then he scribbled some notes on yet another clipboard, and handed it to his surviving flunkey.

His instructions reluctantly in hand, Stout got up and stiffly hobbled out. He really did NOT want to go to Chicago again. Yet, if it got him away from Dr. Norm's circus-colored lab coat, he'd almost put up with the metal detectors he was going to have to go through, braces and all.

After Stout had been gone for a few moments, Dr. Al Norm turned and began working away at his board again, whistling to himself some numerically flawless Beethoven.

He began to frown slightly after ten minutes, and turned back to his desk. He pulled out a thick stack of three year old papers and eyed them. Then he looked back to the board. Something here was looking disturbingly familiar as he plotted. He raised marker to board again, trying a different approach to the angles of intersection.

He scowled as he realized the value of the variable representing Shego was intersecting with the R factor in exactly the same way that variable KP had intersected with R factor three years earlier. He continued to plot. His markers kept intersecting the same series of coordinates no matter how many ways he tried the equation.

"No. No no no no no NO! Value KP is NOT equal to Green Wraith! Value KP is mathematically insignificant! She's Dead!" He hurled his clipboard at the plotting with all the force he could muster. It clattered impotently to the cement floor.

"ABBEY!"

---

Three days it'd taken Anne to go through the megabytes of file attachments from her old colleague. For some reason, this Sara Smith case was really holding her attention. Maybe it was just the challenge, a different challenge from federal funding releases and grant applications.

All the info she'd asked Dr. Oblongata for, she'd received. Most of it simply reinforced what she'd assumed from the initial email. The real important part though was the MMPP. The near-universal personality test showed the manifestations of the damage almost as well as actual interviews and video of the girl would.

The test, which the apparently stubborn woman had somehow been encouraged to complete, showed the extent of any of her injuries. Though it was difficult to say with absolute authority, since nothing of her personality prior to her turning up at this hospital was known.

Minnesota multiphase personality profiles were a baseline test given to evaluate any number of mental conditions, from simple depression to severe psychosis and chemical disorders. This one definitely showed evidence of what Dr. O and the retired Dr. Possible were thinking was going on. It showed someone with a tendency towards dangerous impulsive activities and a fast temper. It also indicated slight tendencies towards sociopathy, or the ignoring or societal rules when convenient.

The problem was that the test results weren't definitive. If Anne put them on a scale of one-to-ten as to whether they were from brain damage, or whether they were mental-health problems at all; they come in at an annoyingly nondescript five. This person could just as easily be a former professional athlete with strong competitive drives as she could be a mental patient.

Anne rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. It was impossible to say what was injury, what was psychology, and what, if anything, was the woman's own original personality. The tests backed up her own predictions about what the injuries to her brain would produce, but it wasn't ethical to change how her brain worked if these personality traits were hers and not the result of brain damage.

She felt Miriam kicking in her belly again, and sighed again. Feeling a good challenge was one thing; feeling challenged and eight-and-one-half months pregnant was another thing entirely.

This poor woman's brain wasn't her own, and right now, Anne's body was not her own either.

But at least Anne was still in control for the most part, not Mim…

"Wait, the person in control… If I had some scans of her while she was asleep… Her hypno-transative state might…"

It didn't rely on her Hippocampus like her conscious mind did, the retired Dr. Possible realized; this process only dealt in short term memory. That could answer the nagging doubts about who was who here, or at least it would give her a good idea. Her short term memory lay-down should be unchanged by any injuries, at least according to Dr. O.

He had said that this Sara suffered linear event-specific amnesia, which was lack of memories of and before a certain event; not retrograde amnesia that prevented her laying down memories or forming new patterns of behavior.

She hoped Stan had forgotten to include any sleep or coma scans of Miss Smith, and sent off an email requesting as much before sitting back to contemplate.

This impulsive girl could be the basis of a whole series of papers she could submit to the mental-health research community… if she had time while caring for a new-born child and managing a major scholarship fund, to write them.

---

Sara was very glad that it was March in London… It would have been a lot more difficult hiding her wraith arm under the leather bomber jacket in the middle of July. Or at least a lot less plausible in front of iceman Lubinsky.

She was a little perturbed at the man's efficiency. She'd made her rather luxuriant down payment on the uranium two days before, and he already had the two pellets here in the ancient roman city turned global commerce center. How he snuck nuclear material into a global capital in three days time was a bit worrisome. Kim would have found it worrisome for its political and terrorist implications. Sara, however, was just disturbed that he had that kind of pull in the under-world community and could so easily bribe customs.

Sara hadn't had time to liquidate the rest of her assets to cover the remaining quarter payment. Yet, as she stared at the innocuous looking briefcase in front of her, she knew she had only two options. Option one was to tell Lubinsky that she didn't have the sheer amount of Euro's to pay for the Uranium. Then he'd have her money, and her power supply, and not be obligated to give either to her.

'Damn arms dealers and their non-refundable deposit schemes.'

Option two was nestled under the left sleeve of the rugged looking bomber jacket. She'd managed to hide the clawed metal talons at the end of the arm in her jacket's pocket, and Lubinsky seemed used to her self-conscious wont to hide the prosthetic, so he didn't seem to give it a second thought. Besides, the pocket of the jacket was obviously too small to hold a pistol. Anyone in this game could tell that the little slash pockets couldn't even hide a dainty .22"

"You wanted to meet outside? On a dreary day like today Miss Smith? This is London, not Malibu." Lubinsky's pale blue eyes were looking unimpressedly at the gray featureless sky above them, but his quip worried Sara, He must be suspicious of her choice of meeting place.

"The cold air is good for my lungs… Unless you'd like this yankee hacking and coughing up a storm and creating a scene." She countered as smoothly as her frayed nerves would allow. It was not a total lie, but if Gregor thought about their previous encounters, he'd realize that while she had asthma, she wasn't prone to coughing for no reason.

"Fair enough… the less attention, the better. Now, do you have the rest of my money? I obviously have your rock collection." Sara noted that, as usual, the iceman's expression was nigh unreadable. Yet his confidence bespoke volumes.

He may as well have asked her in broad daylight to pay for the uranium. Anyone listening in passing to them would have not been any less fooled by those words than his thinly disguised entreaty. Sara smiled pleasantly. For this to work, she needed the extra maneuvering space the club's patio would allow. The few patrons passing through the door or enjoying a morning coffee would help out too.

When they're coffee server arrived, though, the plan went to hell in a hand basket of bronze skin and brunette hair. "Biscotti? We have a lovely selection this morning fresh from the bakery. The cinnamon is particularly enjoyable."

Well, she'd been planning to get Bonnie out of here anyway. Just not in a hail of gunfire and plasma bolts; Chloroform would have been so much nicer an option.

"I thought you worked afternoon shifts…" Sara was unable to mask the mild shock in her voice at seeing Rockwaller at eight-thirty in the morning.

Bonnie, for her part, seemed to have regained most of her professionalism on seeing her one-eyed patron. A good night's sleep, and a few days spent reminding herself she'd been to Kim Possible's funeral nearly two years before had her mostly convinced that whoever this mysterious woman was, she wasn't a fellow alumnus from Middleton High.

"Oh, had to shift swap with someone. It's good to see you again. Nice to see a countryman here in the empire."

Sara wasn't as pleased as Rockwaller claimed to be. Her off-the-cuff remark to the iceman a few days earlier came back to her like an ice-pick in her temple. She noted, in a rare moment of self-loathing, that Lubinsky seemed to remember just as well as she did, because he was looking Bonnie up and down with a lack of subtlety that bordered on impolite.

Bordered nothing, it was impolite. Apparently Sara had been right about his taste in women. Great, now she had to get herself and Bonnie out of here, without getting both of them shot, and with the Uranium 235 Pellets.

'shit' was the monosyllable that rolled through her mind.

Her mouth came up with something a little more enlightened a moment later. "Yeah, a pleasure to see you again as well. My business associate and I won't be here for long, so I think just some orange juice for me and a copy of the Herald to go. Mr. Lubinsky?"

"Da… I vill haff a orange juice as vell. Boyas?" He looked to his two associates who studiously shook their heads.

Sara was nonplussed by iceman's sudden switch into a thick affected accent. As though his cliché's weren't corny enough, now he sounded like Boris Badanov. She looked to their imperiled server, trying not to reveal the fact that nothing here was quite what it seemed.

"Two OJ's and one Herald…" Bonnie spun on her heel and retreated back into the club-cum-bistro.

It was really a nice place, Sara thought as she watched Rockwaller exit… A shame it wasn't going to be much longer. How many places could claim to be a coffee-house in the morning, a wine club in the afternoon, and a high-class singles bar after hours? Well, soon it was going to be something else again; a crime scene.

"She's exactly what I said, huh Mr. Lubinsky? I didn't expect her to be working today though, what a rare treat." Sara nodded at the door the ex-cheerleader had just passed through, intending on using their server as a further distraction.

"Da. She is whot you said she vas. A California Yankee, a nice tan." He kept up his horribly phony accent for appearances now. His crystalline blue eyes seemed to bore through the ornate maple doorway after an imagined set of swaying hips and backside.

Sara nodded inwardly. As long as the cool Russian was distracted by the honey-tanned waitress, Sara had an edge of surprise. His goons were, of course, too weary for their own good, but Sara could use their hyper-vigilance to her advantage as well.

"And a great ass too. Did you see the way she shakes it. I'll bet she was a cheerleader."

She wasn't sure if his two 'helpers' understood enough English to put together what part of Bonnie's anatomy she was complimenting, but she was gratified to see the one with dark hair try to disguise his own glance towards the door.

The word cheerleader seemed to ignite some more avarice in the usually stolid Lubinsky, and she hoped it would help keep his blood-flow out of his brain for a while. She couldn't help a faintly triumphant smirk as the iceman's gaze continued to smolder towards the doorway.

Within two minutes, Bonnie had returned with two tall glasses of citrus juice and a neatly folded newspaper. Once she'd placed the items on the table, she waited for her gratuity and to see if her patron's had decided to have a snack while she was absent.

Sara smiled politely to her, noting how Bonnie focused almost painfully on her one eye when she made eye contact. She needed to get the bronzed woman closer to her for this to work. She politely slid a twenty-five Euro note onto the table, but kept it within reach of the newspaper she was now unfolding.

She glanced over the headlines cursorily, eyeing the iceman and his lackeys more than the news of a shootout in a California cemetery on the international page. Gregor and his dark haired man both seemed to be, for the moment at least, focused on Bonnie's body.

Unfortunately that wouldn't last more than a moment, though.

'damn it bonbon, swallow your fucking pride and reach for the tip!'

Not making eye contact, she subtly touched the banknote, trying to draw Kim's nemesis in. Her keen green eye, meanwhile, made note of everything over the top of the newspaper; the briefcase, Lubinsky and his men, and any bystanders she could use as fodder.

She gritted her teeth and sighed, noticing Bonnie getting a bit uncomfortable at the silence. She really didn't have time for this. Eventually the iceman would return his focus to business at hand and her moment of distraction would be lost. She counted off ten more seconds and decided she needed to prompt their server.

"Miss? I'm sorry, but I don't know what this term here is. Perhaps you could help me, since you live here and all. 'Brick Flagg breaks arm in …a crackup in his Alfa?'"

She'd made up the headline of course, but it did the trick. Hearing a familiar name caused Bonnie to lean right into the newspaper's span to devour the details.

The newspaper, however, suddenly ceased to be there. It had been flung forward, creating an impressive and distracting wall of newsprint over the table between Sara and Bonnie, and Gregor and his men.

Sara's left arm swung upwards at almost inhuman speed and the leather glove covering its hand suddenly fluoresced neon green as it burst into flames. A split-second later the airborne newspaper was similarly incinerated as a bolt of bubbling green plasma passed through the center of it and on across the table.

The result of all this was a spectacular wall of green and black flame and burning newspaper at least a yard high deviding the table and obstructing Gregor's view of her. Unfortunately it also kept her from seeing the iceman and his flunkies. Sara couldn't tell if the bolt of energy had struck Lubinsky on the opposite side after it passed through the paper, but she didn't have time to stop and find out.

She grabbed Bonnie's waist in her right arm and yanked her away from the table even as she was pushing up from the chair. Once Bonnie had been flung behind her and towards the street, she brought her heavy mechanical arm down, smashing the tabletop into flipping upwards like a tossed coin, even as the flame-wall dissipated. This, fortunately, caused the briefcase to flip towards her, rather than towards the iceman and his cohorts.

Her hard jade eye scanned the area, and she could see the blonde, more distant flunkey leaping into action, reaching for the sidearm he must have under his own jacket.

Fortunately, adrenaline had kicked in and everything was moving in slow motion. She brought the wraith arm up flung a small blast in his direction, not even pausing to ensure it hit the mark as she reached with her right hand for the precious briefcase as it flipped through the air. As soon as her fingers closed over it, she back flipped away from the still rolling table and landed next to Bonnie, teeth bared in a feral grin.

"I know it sounds corny, but if you want to live, come with me!" She didn't give her bronze victim a chance to respond, grabbing her about the wrist with the cold metallic hand of her combat limb and starting for the street even as the first gunshot rang out.

Things were still moving in slow motion, and she saw the cracking of concrete just ahead of her as a shot missed the mark by a good two yards.

No, it was a lot closer to its intended mark than that. The bullet had narrowly missed the rear wheel of her dark green Triumph Speed Tripple.

'damn, this guy's sharp, take out the getaway vehicle, not the runner.'

Sara barely had time to think as she dragged Bonbon in one hand, the briefcase, heavily lead-shielded as it was, in the other. A second shot cracked the pavement again. If the guy was smart, thankfully at least his aim was off.

Time, though, was starting to come back up to speed when she got to her ride. "Not much time to ask, you coming with me or not?"

Bonnie stared at her slightly shorter companion, dumbfounded. Her blue eyes were wide in shock and confusion as she looked from Sara to the bike and back. Pistol shots three and four made up her mind for her.

"You!" She shrieked as concrete shrapnel stung the backs of her long legs.

"Good choice! Hop on!"

Sara thrust the heavy briefcase into Bonnie's arms and swung her leg over the bike, thumbing the electric starter and hunkering low. She yelped slightly herself when Gregor's man's aim got much more accurate, a shot passing close enough over her head to let her feel the heat of the round.

She spared a glance back towards the club, and noticed the iceman was hunched over and flailing his arms at what appeared to be a smoldering shirt. His dark-haired man was trying to help him, while the blonde one was holding what looked like a damned hand-cannon, pointing it in her direction.

Kim's memories told her a split second later that it was a Desert Eagle, rounds anywhere from .357 mag to fifty caliber. Big bullets!

"Shit! Time to go!" Her under-statement was punctuated as round seven shattered both headlamps of the Triumph.

A moment later she felt bonnie wrapping long arms around her in a death-grip, pressing the heavy case between them. Despite the rush of adrenaline, and the fact that at any second either one of them could be blown clear off the bike by the heavy caliber bullets whipping passed, Sara found it to be a very pleasant sensation…

Well, except for the corner of the lead-lined briefcase digging into the small of her back… that she could do without.

She gunned the three-cylinder engine of the Triple, and felt the bike add to her pleasure as it growled at a dangerously high pitch between her thighs. She loved her customized little street-fighter, repainted from its factory matte black to a delicious deep jade green; and with a special extended seat for just these kinds of occasions.

The bike didn't disappoint, wanting desperately to flip them off the back as it tried to wheel up from beneath. The weight of the two women, though, was enough to keep it planted on both wheels, and she felt Bonnie gripping onto her even more tightly as they peeled out and darted down the street.

Sara knew she'd have to keep the bike in a straight line, since she doubted her passenger would be able to lean with the precise timing needed to corner and jink. Still, getting away on the narrow London streets shouldn't be too much problem for the stripped down motorcycle. In surprisingly short order she'd slammed through four of the bike's six gears and its power plant was growling up and down the RPM range as they ran.

The pitch of the engine and its whirring vibration beneath them increased to the point she thought that it might blow apart beneath the two of them, yet Sara kept pressing her mechanical wrist forward, twisting the throttle to its limits as they plowed on through busy London streets. She tried to keep in a straight line as much as she could, not wanting to dump speed. Every time she had to spin the tail of the bike around or lean several degrees off the vertical to turn, Bonnie would shriek behind her and try to squeeze her in half.

Yet Rockwaller held on through several gut-twisting maneuvers. The girl had an iron grip around Sara's waist; to the point where it was getting difficult to control the bike with her body. Sara couldn't even imagine how the girl's thighs must be clamped down around the narrow seat that extended out into space over the ass of the bike.

The seat had been specially extended for Sara, since the Speed Triple was a one-seater, basically an engine on two wheels, in its factory form. If not for the little foot pegs and a thickly padded strut, Bonnie would be riding on the rear fender which was bouncing dangerously up and down a few inches below her hips.

Finally the pair broke out into open country and Sara was able to stop slamming the bike back and forth so hard. She still had to jink around traffic, but it was a much gentler rolling compared to what had basically been a dogfight in the city proper.

They seemed to have gotten away so fast that not even the London police force had yet scrambled to track them down; so Sara reluctantly dropped their speed back down to normal M5 traffic speeds to avoid drawing attention.

"By the way, you can call me Sara!" She finally called back to her passenger over the whining of the engine and the wind whipping past her ears and through her short strawberry hair. She was ginning wildly with the thrill of the escape and the warm body clamped to hers.

"Sara, you're fucking insane!" was the shrieked response she got a few seconds later as they sped down the main artery towards a local airport.

"Get used to it!" She grinned even more broadly and momentarily popped the bike up on one wheel, prompting another squeal and a renewed grip from her new companion.

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Author's notes additional: If you couldn't follow all of Norm's plotting and graphing, basically, he was using an advanced form of the associative property when he came to his disturbing revalation. KP dead Green Wraith would be the over-simplified expression.

Sara's bike is a sweet custom little number. My dad used to ride an early 70's Triumph Trident, so I'm pretty familiar with the little British street fighters of which the Speed Tripple is the latest iteration. Here's a link to what the stock bike looks and sounds like. www. triumph. co.uk/uk/MotorcycleSpeedTriple.aspx

much as chapter 13's interlude about Sara's brain injuries was highly researched and based in fact, this chapter's is pretty much pure techno babble. So far as I know, terms like hypno-transative states are pure bunko, although the MMPP is a real test. So don't go asking your local shrink if they can do a sleep scan on you to figure out if you have multiple personalities. (which Sara doesn't BTW)


	15. Chapter 15

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 15

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: At least she's not in her underwear during calculus!

Now, on with the Story...

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Shego was lying on the Riviera, sunning her ashen green flesh, and enjoying the warmth beating down on her pale form. She kicked her feel languidly as her Ipod played some pod-cast about self empowerment through blood letting and self-mutilation, and hummed lightly along with its background music.

Finally she turned over and looked up, not caring that her green breasts were bare, it was the Riviera after all. She shook her head in wry amusment as her dark evergreen nipples got up and scurried away, burying themselves in the sand a few feet from her toes.

Looking up and following the shadow that fell over that spot, she saw Kim standing over her and tilted her sunglasses down. "Hey Princess… Long time no see!"

Kim smiled chummily and shot her in the stomach a few times, then plopped down next to her on the sand, shedding her own top. "Yeah… Took me a while to find this place. You wouldn't believe the traffic coming up I-80!"

"Yeah, tell me about it. The helicopter flight was a total bitch." She dipped her fingers into one of Shego's bullet wounds and began smearing the chocolate sauce dribbling out of the holes onto an ice cream sundae.

"Oh, did you at least bring me some nuts?"

Shego sat up on her elbows and watched a Frisbee whip by, neatly decapitating one of the Wegos. Mego jogged by and picked up his head, and the rest of Team Go began playing volleyball with it as she laughed. "Hey, I get winner!"

"Sorry, it was a nut-free flight. Well except for me of course." Kim shook her head after Shego got acknowledgement from her brothers. She smiled and peeled one of her jade eyes out of its socket, dropping it atop the sundae and handing it to Shego.

"Oh… yeah… FAA regulations and all... Well, what you gonna do?" She shrugged and popped the emerald eye into her mouth, crunching down on it, and wiping away the red trickle of juice from her lips. "Mmmmm, good!"

"Say, Shego…" Kim looked over to her counterpart and tapped her on the shoulder with a chocolate-sauce smeared finger. "Did you ever find those guys who killed me?"

Shego, her face now covered in icecream, pointed to two slowly turning spits, where a short fat man and a man wearing a heavy pilot's headset were turning and roasting, while trading the latest stock reports back and forth. "Two of 'em anyways…"

A little black leopard cub came loping up and started licking at Kim's fingers, its rough tongue peeling the flesh away and causing her to giggle madly as steel bones and wiring were revealed beneath.

"Hey now! Cut that out!" She giggled and swatted the kitten who ripped off her whole left arm and proudly trotted away with it held in his jaws.

"Oh, don't worry about it; he'll bring it back eventually." Shego smirked and flung a hand full of neon pink sand after Othello.

"Hope so… Would hate for Dr. Drakken to have to miss out on his evening lemon squares if I can't spoon feed him…"

Kim suddenly seemed a bit more sullen and Shego turned over to face her, pausing to tuck a few of her friends' exposed wires back into her shoulder. "What's the matter kitten?"

"Oh, just wishing you'd wake up and find me already Old Friend…" Kim smiled and leaned over, pecking Shego lightly on the lips.

"What the hell?!" Shego sat bolt-upright in bed, a hand raised to her lips at the ghost of the kiss that burned there.

She regretted the abrupt action pretty quickly, clutching her gut a moment later when the pain sensation reached her brain and let her know she had, in fact, woken up. Pulling her palm away after the initial rush of pain subsided, she saw that some dark red blood had soaked through her dressings and hospital issue nightie.

Wait a minute, wasn't she supposed to be dead? She looked frantically around.

How had she gotten to the hospital? Where was this hospital? How long had she been out? Why wasn't she in handcuffs? Why the hell had Kim called her old friend and kissed her?

She paused and looked around, waiting for something, anything; like her imaginary Kim perhaps, to show up and provide explanation. Her keen ears provided something in the way of answers at least.

She heard light snoring. Her eyes adjusted finally to the faint light to make out the shape sleeping in the chair near her bed. "The Doofus?"

Stoppable was sitting in one of those ugly blue hospital recliners in the corner of the room. He was obviously out, undisturbed by Shego's somnolent outburst. She decided she'd better make her escape while he slept, and turned to slip her feet over the edge of the bed.

At that moment, a caramel-skinned girl peeked her head in the door, carrying what looked and stank like those god awful Bueno Nacho meals. She was looking at Ron, but movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention to the bed.

Not that she needed assistance in noticing the movement. A split second later, the bed alarm started softly chiming; alerting the nurse's station and anyone in the room that Shego had tried to get up.

"Well, morning Glowstick. Glad to see you're up and about finally."

"God save me, they're multiplying!" Shego clapped a hand over her face as she remembered that this was another of Kimmie's friends; Monica or something.

"Yeah, nice to see you too, and by the way, you're welcome." Monique snorted at her and sat the mexi-food on the room's guest table and came fully inside.

"For what?"

"Not leaving your string-bean ass to bleed to death. That's what. Want to tell me why someone was shooting at you in a cemetery?"

"Not really. Can I go now?"

Monique looked at her in the same sort of disbelief she had shown Ron a few days earlier. Was everyone operating on a different level of reality here? "Um… no… sit back in bed, you're still full of holes."

Shego growled. But she could tell from the dull ache in her belly that the girl was right. She reluctantly settled back and rubbed her pierced left thigh. "So… how long?"

"Three days. Doctor said you should have dropped dead already, you lost almost eight pints of blood. By the way, I'll send you the bill for cleaning my Navigator."

Shego tried to read the dark-skinned girls expression, but morphine and Shego didn't get along to well, a wonderfully insidious side effect of the comet.

Pain killers didn't work on her. Well, common ones didn't. She clearly wasn't thinking straight at the moment either, or she would have yanked said morphine drip out of her arm to help clear her head. Still she was ravenously thirsty... Eight pints of blood going missing would do that. So she left the morphine, and the accompanying Lactated Ringers in her arm for a bit. Fluid was her friend.

"Erm yeah… thanks." She looked down, feeling quite a bit ashamed and subdued at having been saved by the doofus and a member of the b-squad. How the mighty had fallen.

"…no… nono… No… Anything but that…" Shego and Monique both looked towards the sounds of mumbling and saw a look of consternation on the sleeping Ron's face. He seemed to be stirring in a fitful dream of his own now.

"Not the Lawn Gnome!!!" Ron almost flipped himself out of the vinyl clad hospital recliner when he sat up out of his own nightmare.

Shego and Monique exchanged a confused look, and then burst into twin fits of laughter that echoed up and down the ICU's halls. When they finally managed to hush themselves, out of embarrassment for Ron, respect for the other patients on the ward, and mostly out of lack of breath and pain in their ribs, they watched Ron glowering at both of them.

"Yeah, you laugh now… just wait till they come for you." He said cryptically. Then he turned a much clearer scowl on Shego, who actually seemed a bit taken aback by it. Were his eyes glowing?

"As for you…" He eyed her solemnly. "You should go see your boss…"

Shego didn't quite understand what he said for a moment. She'd been fully prepared, based on the acid look in his eyes (which she'd now determined were not actually glowing) to be taken to task for any number of past misdeeds. It took her still-frazzled brain several seconds to put together from the hospital letterhead on her medical chart just which hospital she was at.

"Spoon feeding him Lemon Squares indeed." She sighed quietly and carefully extricated herself from the bed, this time silencing the alarm switch before doing so, and started hobbeling down the hallway towards the coma ward, wondering if the lead ball in the pit of her stomach was a blood clot, or something far more serious… guilt.

---

Meanwhile, across the California hills in Upperton, at three-thirty in the morning, Anne Possible sat bolt upright out of a dead sleep. If she knew that she was at least the third person to do this in the space of ten minutes and twenty miles, she might write up a research paper about it.

As it was, she was more than a little preoccupied with what thoughts had jerked her out of sleep. Quickly pulling on her robe and eying her husband, she made her way out of the bedroom and down stairs to the little office on the main floor of the new house. Best not to disturb him, or anyone, with what was possibly just a hormone induced delusion.

Especially not this delusion. No, the last thing she needed was that disapproving look in his eyes when she brought up the topic that they'd been over so often in the weeks after the Detonation. Disapproval and being looked at like she'd lost her mind was not what she needed when she was supposed to be getting ready for her last OBGYN visit in a few hours.

She opened up the Sara Smith file once again and stared at the picture of the girl's roundish, disfigured face. It didn't help settle her doubts any. The picture, just like so much of Sara's file, was off just enough to be frustratingly intangible. Yes, the one emerald eye and the red hair was right, but the shape of the face was wrong.

She started flipping through the digital files on the little Spheres laptop that Wade had given her and sighed. Where was it? Which file was it that had the blood work?

She found it a few moments later and nodded. There was the standard ACGT makeup of a DNA sequence. She opened a file from one of her older life insurance reports, and plucked a similar file from its sphere. After a moment's consideration, Anne was dropping both into a third virtual bubble which had floated to the surface as if anticipating the insanity she was pondering.

She rubbed her heavily swollen belly and sighed, dreading the results. She wasn't sure exactly what she was dreading. Either result could be positive news. One meant that this girl Sara was exactly who she appeared to be, and that she could go back to bed with a clear conscious.

The other result would be fantastic news, and she would certainly wake the entire house with her joyful cries that-

The computer beeped and the cyber-bubble popped open with flashing red text. "No Match Found."

Sighing heavily with something not quite relief, and not quite remorse, but equal parts of each; Anne closed the laptop up again without bothering to read the rest of the results. There was a detailed report there that Wade's special program always prepared, but she already had the answer she wanted, or didn't.

"Just a delusion Dr. Possible… Time to go back to bed." She chided herself and started back up the stars. After a moment she tapped her heavy belly ruefully.

"You'd better not be as much trouble as my first daughter, Miriam Kimberly Possible… Giving mommy nightmares like that is not a way to get on her good side when you're not even out of the womb yet."

Sighing heavily yet again, and trying not to disturb James, she slid back under the covers and rolled heavily over, wrapping her arm around him. Really, what an idea... that some escaped amnesiac was really their daughter all these months later: that Kimberly had been laying in a hospital bed just sixty miles from Chicago for months and no one had noticed.

She was really going to have to lay off the brain loaf and chocolate ice cream before bed.

---

Ron, meanwhile, had finished his Egg and Sausage Enchirito and was sipping wearily on his popsi as Monique sat on the now vacant bed, staring at him.

She chuckled a bit and sipped her coffee. "Lawn Gnomes? God and I thought the simiaphobia was weird. Boy the Jimmy Springer show has got nothing on you."

"Yeah… Just you wait." He smirked finally and threw a potato fiesta bite at her.

Monique was glad for the smirk… 'Ron Stoppable, Emo Warrior' had really been starting to wear on her these past few days. "Oh, and thanks for the backup out there… A bullet in the back was not what I was counting on."

Ron's expression darkened again and she mentally kicked her own ass for spoiling the momentary levity.

"You know, KP didn't ever seem to have a problem with my backup. Not since Middle School." He turned his eyes back to his Popsi and sucked on the straw sullenly.

She sighed and scrubbed her face with her palm. She mumbled softly into her hand, "…and thus Emo Warrior returns."

"Look Ron. I'm not Kim. I'm never going to be Kim. I don't want to be Kim. And I definitely don't want Kim's BFF since pre-k getting killed on my watch, okay?"

There, she'd finally said it. Ever since Ron found out about her side-gig, she'd felt more like she was living in girlfriend's shadow than being a crime-fighter in her own light. She eyed him irritably, and hoped she hadn't been too harsh, but he needed to snap out of this idea that she was his surrogate KP.

Ron glared at her for a long moment, and then turned away, sipping the last of his Popsi down. "Yeah… whatever."

She groaned audibly and flopped back onto Shego's bed. "Fine, whatever. Now, what about glowstick?"

"What about her? We turn her over to GJE and chalk the last of Kim's arch-villain's off her list."

"Except that last time I checked, every warrant for her had been canceled. Even GJE won't hold someone without charging them." Monique sat up, and was about to go into further detail when her modified kimmunicator beeped out her own three-note ringtone.

"What's shakin' J?" Only it wasn't James Possible on the little screen, it was Viv Porter.

"Hey Monique, sorry to interrupt your vigil, but um…"

"No problem girlfriend… what's going on?" Monique looked at the blonde on her smart-phone and tried to suppress the irrational jealousy she always felt around the robotacist. Her eyes unconsciously fluttered to the still-sullen Ron as he tried to slurp more soda out of the drained cup, pointedly ignoring her.

"Well, it's about Wade's picture. Remember how he thought there was a big green W on the front of the helicopter for Wraith?"

Monique nodded. It still stung that Wade had kept that drama from them for over a week. And two months later nothing had yet come of the lead.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, don't tell cutie that I've been working behind his back, but I had a friend over at Middleton Space Center run the picture through an image enhancer on the QT…"

She was a little preoccupied with the conversation to question why the twenty-eight year old robot maker kept calling a seventeen year old boy cute, so Monique just nodded as if she was able to follow the discussion at nearly 4 a.m. "Mmhmmm, and?"

"Well, for one thing, my guy agree'd with Oliver… it's not a 'W'." Vivian's face was squished as the screen split to show a close-up of the image in question, "It's 'A N' just really stylized, and blurred."

"Okay, so this episode of Sesame Street wasn't brought to us by the Green Wraith and the number six… What else you got girl?"

By now Ron was standing over her shoulder, and staring at the small screen intently, a hand resting on Monique's shoulder tightly as he listened in.

"Oh, hey Ron… get ready for this. My guy said that that particular helicopter is a model that Global Justice used to use before they became Global Justice Enforcement. It's been officially retired for a few years, but they still keep a few around for parts because it's tough to get stealth 'copter components."

Monique and Ron were fairly well awestruck by this, and missed Vivian's next question to them completely, the one about why Ron was massaging Monique's shoulder. Not that either of them realized he was doing it.

---

Shego sat in the guest chair, and suddenly wished she had her annoying Kim-conscious to talk to. It would be better than staring an incarnation of guilt in the face. Well, at least that face wasn't capable of staring back at her.

Dr. Drakken's chest rhythmically rose and fell under his blanket, and if it weren't for the machine that rolled him to one side or the other every thirty minutes, Shego could easily assume he was just sleeping.

She picked up his chart and looked it over, pretending to understand half the medical jargon there. Finally she pieced together that the skin grafts had taken, and that the now more prominent scar under his left eye held a couple of surgical plates that were holding his skull together.

"Hmmm, least they put him on Medicaid… won't have to pay for any of this, wherever the hell his money comes from anyways. sides, I used it all up already."

She sighed and sat back, putting the medical chart back into its holder and trying to look anywhere but upon the placid blue face. When her vision started to blur up a bit, Shego thought about hitting the call button. Something must be wrong with her eyes now, on top of everything else.

When her nose began running and she sniffed, she growled. 'No, damn it... this isn't happening to me.'

Shego grabbed a kleenex, the institutional kind that may as well have been note-book paper as tissue paper, and wiped her nose off. She scowled angrily at Drew Lipsky's slumbering form and mentally demanded that he wake up and start plotting to steal something, anything, and send her out for it.

Hell, even a recipe from Nana Possible would do! She could go steal the woman's ham gumbo secret for Drakken! Yeah, he'd like that… knowing that she'd gotten one of the rarest recipes in the world for him, and hadn't even charged him for it.

"What do you say Dr. D? Want me to go grab a crock pot and some Caribbean jerk?" There was no response from the bed. Drakken's chest continued to slowly rise and fall and Shego got up, smacking him across the cheek for his infuriating silence.

She snorked a bit of snot back up her nose and slammed her fists down on the arm of her chair next to the bed, trying to will him to wake up. "Snap out of it you blue-balled sunuvabitch! I've hit you harder than that before! GodDamnIt I said wake the fuck up!"

When the machines attached to his bed rolled him over onto his other side and he failed to react, Kelly Sheba Go's legendary will was broken. She crumbled into the hospital recliner and began sobbing uncontrollably over what she had done.

Three hours later when an orderly wheeled her back into the room where Ron and Monique were still sitting, she was bawling uncontrollably, and the two heroes could barely make out sobbed words like brothers, and princess, and Stevie.

Ron and Monique left after twenty minutes of being subjected to the catharsis, and went to their respective apartments to clean up It was eight in the morning after all, and they'd been up three days straight running on caffeine and Beuno Nacho. When they came back five hours later to check on her, Shego was still sobbing, curled up in her bed now, and looked fairly wretched.

Occasionally she would whimper out something about family, or friendship, or kitten, and once in a while freedom; but that was all Ron or Monique could get out of her. She finally seemed to cry herself into slumber, and the two just looked at each other, not sure if it was wrong to feel pity for someone who had tried to kill each of them more than once.

When they came back again the next morning, they found Shego sobbing once more. Or perhaps still… Monique quietly asked one of the nurses if they could give her something. Ron, for his part, was just staring stoically.

Inside her sobbing shell, Shego wasn't crying for Doctor Drakken any longer. She was crying for pretty much everything in her life. In fifteen years she hadn't cried once. She hadn't cried since the night before she'd left Go Island. That wasn't normal for any sixteen year old girl. But Kelly Go wasn't normal then or now, was she?

Well, she cried now… fifteen years worth of tears and repressed pain roiling out of her.

Inside her troubled mind Shego cried for her brothers, who couldn't understand why they pissed her off so. She needed freedom like most people needed air, and all "Hego' wanted to be was in charge, no wonder he managed a damned fast-food stand.

She sobbed wretchedly for that boy at a bar when she was seventeen, and using a fake ID. The one who'd tried to steal a kiss from her and ended up in the burn ward because she couldn't control her powers very well. She couldn't even remember his name now.

Sniffling and snorting pathetically she thought back on how she had spent her most productive years being foiled by a teenager and her simiaphobic boyfriend. Her boyfriend and a damned naked rodent, and a host of hangers-on ranging from a fashion plate with a Club Banana card to a kid in a damned wheel chair!

Shego wailed for the woman that years of selling her talents to the highest bidder had turned her into. A woman who had savagely beaten one of the few people who would even put up with her on a day to day basis; beaten him to within an inch of his life, not once, but three times in as many days.

She shuttered and wailed most deeply that the one woman who might understand why she felt like this had been blown atoms before her very eyes. If anyone in this world had been a friend to her, Kim possible had been; all that bodily assault aside. Who else would save her family not once, but twice? Would an enemy, an arch nemesis, get Shego her job back after Drakken had passed her over for some space amazon?

Finally, sometime after her evening meal tray was wheeled in, Shego had decided she was completely and utterly cried out. She sat up and flipped off the bed alarm. God she felt like crap; she'd forgotten what being a sissy little girl could leave her feeling like afterwards, especially over fifteen hours of being a sissy little girl. Three bullet wounds and eight units of absent blood didn't help, but sobbing uncontrollably drained her far more.

She made her way to the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. "God, I look like shit warmed over…"

Her nose was pink, an ugly color to contrast with her green flesh, and encrusted with dried snot; and her lips were swollen and still a bit puckered from hyperventilating and sobbing. Her eyes were thoroughly bloodshot, and god damn it, what little mascara was left from four days ago had smeared itself all over her cheeks from tears! She looked like a reject from Revenge of the Shambling Dead III.

After more than a few minutes she'd managed to at least run a cheap hospital hair brush through her hair and wash her face off. Demurely smoothing out the 'gah!' pink hospital gown and turning, she stepped back into the main part of the room, only to run directly into Doofus and Monique, who were returning, in the company of Nerdlinger and some blonde chick in a lab coat and heels.

Now there was a look Even shego wasn't brazen enough to try to pull off.

The party of four started at her miraculous recovery incredulously, not half a day earlier Shego was up for sedation, and now she looked basically as if nothing more than a bad night's sleep afflicted her.

Shego, though, wasn't up for any more delays in her life. Four days in a hospital bed was more time than she was willing to fart away in her quest for Kim's vengeance. She seemed to be pretty well healed up now, and there was a short list of people whose asses needed kicking, starting with that damned doppleganger.

And now it looked like she had some allies to help out with the grunt work, Unwilling though they may be.

"Okay, last I knew… that Green Wraith bitch was in London stealing from some of my favorite victims. I'll go and deal with her personally. Stoppable, why don't you and your chocolate ninja friend here call up Betty Director and… Oh fuck all! She's still dead isn't she? Well, I guess we'll have to call that stick in the mud Will Du and see if he knows what kind of rotten apples he has in his organization. Nerdenhiemer, you and your pet bombshell here see if you can find out who sold the Green Wraith Kimmie's old plasma busting battle suit… I'd like to be able to wring their necks personally." She waited for motion, and blinked when none was forthcoming. "Come on kids, chop chop! Hop to it!"

"Who the fuck put you in charge?"

A metaphoric pin drop was heard. Four people and one mole rat stared at Ron Stoppable aghast. Not a single one of them had ever heard a curse word cross his lips.

After a shocked moment of silence, Monique grabbed him by the wrist and scowled. "Can I speak with you outside for a moment?"

It wasn't a request, the blonde man was yanked out the door by the captured wrist, and said door was tugged shut behind them. Shego looked to Wade and Vivian and smirked after a moment. "I like her! Glad I hooked them up."

Wade and Vivian didn't quite know what to say, or what she was even referring to in all honesty. Vivian was still stewing to a slow boil at being called a 'pet bombshell.'

Wade was about to open his mouth and try to respond, when his kimmunicator rang. The noise, he noticed, seemed to light something in Shego's eyes. Was that… fondness?

"This is Wade, go ahead."

"Hey Wade-man, its T. I just finished up with that track on a certain black helicopter leaving London- Hey, is that Shego? Has she explained Chicago and Kim Possible Day yet? Hey J, get over here, Shego's awake!"

Wade didn't hear much of what was said after that, because he suddenly remembered what Jim and Tim had told him about what they thought had happened in Chicago… Suddenly a lot of the fury in Monique's eyes made a lot more sense. And he suddenly felt a little sorry for one of the twins Possible.

---

Outside the ICU room, Monique slapped Ron across the face. Then, to make sure he hadn't missed her point the first time, she did it again. By the third slap, a lot of the fire seemed to have left his blue eyes.

"Okay okay! Enough with the hitting!" He rubbed his cheek and cringed a bit when Monique raised her palm for another strike.

"You sure? Cause lately violence seems to be all that's getting your attention Naco-boy. First you want to leave Shego to bleed to death. Then you whine about how I'm not letting risk your ass on a daily basis… and now your swearing? Who the hells are you and WTF have you done with the real Ronald Dean Stoppable? Kim would be ashamed." She eyed him fiercely, brown eyes hard as coals. "No, she'd be disgusted!"

Ron looked down at his toes, and for a moment Monique thought he was going to apologize. Then he looked up and his blue eyes were hard as stones, harder than her own had been in fact.

"You said it yourself Mon… She's dead. So stop lording her over me like you know what she'd do or say! You don't get to invoke KP's name every time something doesn't go your way. And you especially don't get to use her name right after you tell me you don't want to be her! God, make me sorry that I ever thought we slept together if this is how you're going to act."

She looked at him as though he'd slapped her this time. A subject they'd both been carefully dancing around for six months had just been dropped out into the open like a dead mackerel. It stank just as badly. Monique opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came to mind. She closed her mouth again after a moment.

After a second or two, she opened it again on the verge of saying something incredibly hurtful, but again, it failed to rise to the surface. She decided she'd give him a moment to reconsider what he'd said and take it back.

He didn't. She opened her mouth a third time finally and let fly with the hurtful words she'd thought better of a moment before. "Kim's lucky she died before you ever wormed your way into her pants, you're not that good Stoppable! Just a one pump chump!"

She regretted saying it even as the words were coming out of her mouth. Before the sound even finished echoing through the small hallway she felt small and petty and very pathetic. What Ron had said was hurtful.

But what she had just said lowered and denegrated all three of them. "Oh god Ron! I'm… I didn't- You… She…"

Ron looked at her with cold eyes. 'Looked at her' wasn't the right term, Monique felt him look through her. She'd just insulted not only his manhood, but their martyred best friend, and his piercing gaze let her know that a lot more clearly than three slaps to the face.

"Forget it. I'm gonna go see what Shego has planned."

He seemed on the verge of saying more, but Monique saw that some part of the old Ron must still be in there, because unlike her, he held his tongue. She looked after him as he went back inside and suddenly realized what it was Kim saw in him. Even if Ron was sullen, and bitter, and even cursing; he still had her back, even beyond the damned grave he still had her back.

"Yeah, I guess we're both right white-bread… I'm no Kim Possible." She looked towards the imagined sky that existed somewhere beyond the ceiling of the ICU hallway, wishing her BFF would just give them all some sign about what life had in store for them.

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Author's notes additional: Okay, sorry for the freaky acid trip dream and all the swearing, but what did you expect in a Shego-heavy chapter like this, milk and cookies? And yes, there's your gratuitous Kigo fansercive moment for Kim Possible: The Darkness Without

As for poor Ron; Well, Yeah, he's had a hard couple of months. First his BFF and former girlfriend gets blown up in front of him, he spends weeks in the hospital following it. Then he either does or doesn't have a night of drunken passion in a hotel room in Chicago with his other best friend, which he has to be distraught over for six months. Finally the woman who watched him get blown up shows up bloody and broken on Kim's tombstone, and he can't do anything to take his angst out on her. Can you blame a boy for snapping?

And Anne and the future baby Mim, and the DNA report on her laptop? Well, you'll just have to wait and see.


	16. Chapter 16

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 16 (draft)

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Subtext alert! Sapphic content ahead… If you dislike discussions of auto-sexuality, you'll probably want to skip the last section.

Now, on with the Story...

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Bonnie looked over at her… What the hell was this woman to her anyway? Her customer? Her kidnapper? Her rescuer? Well, she looked over at the crazy chic who was piloting the helicopter somewhere over what she was told was the North Atlantic, and rubbed her face in both hands.

She felt completely exhausted, for the first time in a long time, not since she'd had to… god, since she'd had to help carry her own sofa up the stairs to her little apartment in Whitechapple. What a demeaning moment for the youngest daughter of the Rockwaller household. She'd hurt for three days after that, inside and out. Before that, the last time she'd felt so worn was after a marathon ballet practice, or trying to keep up with you-know-who in the pyramid at M.H.S.

Well, three days it had been, and she still did hurt, but at least she'd managed to sleep for most of it at least. Or had it been fourdays ? It was getting hard to tell, every time Sara landed the helicopter they were somewhere different. She'd woken up yesterday in Rekya… Rikka… Rjak… Some little town with a long funny name in Iceland, and Sara and told her to go down to this motel and get them a room.

When she'd been told the room had its own hot-spring fed bath, Bonnie was reminded that her thighs and calves still felt like jello from the motorcycle ride out of London. She lived in that bathtub for the rest of the night, even after Sara had pounded on the door, insisting it was her turn to clean up. Sara ended up taking a bath in the morning. At that point it was… it had been two days? She'd been clamped so hard onto the back of that damned bike the day before that that she could barely walk when Sara had pulled it into the little hangar with the black helicopter.

Bonnie had gotten off the back of the bike before Sara had, taken two steps, and promptly flopped to her knees. Not that she was kissing the ground gratefully or anything, though after that ride she probably would have. No, she just couldn't keep her feet. Her muscles were utterly spent. She was bruised all down her chest and belly from holding that heavy-ass briefcase and her arms felt like they'd be permanently bowed from being wrapped around the woman like a vice.

And then this… this Sara had stuck an arm under her shoulder, and hoisted her up to her feet again, and helped her into the cockpit of this big black helicopter. She was strong, and still sweaty from the ride, and her hair was mussed and frayed from the wind, and Bonnie… She shook herself and pushed that thought away before it could fully form.

This whole little escapade had been like that, running around with this strange woman, thinking all sorts of things a Rockwaller wasn't supposed to think. She wasn't supposed to enjoy motorcycles, or explosions, or helicopter rides over stormy oceans. She definitely wasn't supposed to enjoy doing all these things with someone who didn't seem to have any money of her own. Of her own…

"Meh." She grunted and rubbed a bit of the sleep from her eyes.

"Something wrong there Bonbon?" Sara looked over at her from the pilot's seat as they flew low along the churning gray ocean.

Something clicked in Bonnie's subconscious. Having clicked there, it floated up into her conscious mind for the second time in a week. That damned ankle-spinning feeling came back to her.

There were only a very few people who had ever called her 'bonbon'. And as Bonnie looked at the woman in the leather jacket piloting the expensive helicopter, a disturbing realization floated to the front of her brain again. One of them happened to have red hair, green eyes, and a talent for finding danger.

"Kim?" She half-asked herself and half-whispered as she took in the short haired woman at the controls. She tried to stop the universe from spinning round herself and concentrated on Sara's headset with all her might.

"Who?" Sara asked casually. They could hear each other fairly well over the roar of the ocean and wind outside, in that tin-can manner that the copter's headsets allowed. She'd heard Bonnie make her nondescript sound, and then heard her whisper the name. She wanted to know what the darker girl was thinking about.

Bonnie didn't respond for a moment. She was too busy reflecting inwardly on a number of things and trying to stop the stomach-sickening dizziness of uncertainty. There was a tiny ball of doubt in the pit of her stomach, one that she'd trained and worked for years to utterly ignore. Rockwaller women didn't have doubts. Yet this particular little niggling hesitation wouldn't go away. Other people confronted their doubts, or so she was told…

'what the hell, I've already done a lot of things this week I never would do anywhere else, why not stay with it?'

"Are you Kim Possible?"

Sara looked at her, and chuckled a bit, trying her best to look confused and surprised. There was about the most complicated question she'd been face with in over eight months. She had to give Bonnie credit for putting it together. Maybe she shouldn't have used Kim's irksome nickname for her nemesis back at the club that afternoon, and definitely shouldn't have continued to do so.

Deep down inside, she knew she wasn't Kim… even if she had Kim's body. The philosophers had yet to weigh in on the debate, but that's what philosophers were for. Who were you if you had one person's mind and another person's body anyways?

"The teen hero?" her headset clicked on when she spoke again, that slightly tin-can-on-a-string connection between them over the noise of the rotors. "No… I'm not Kim Possible… She's dead, yeah? I'm just a girl, ya know? I met her once though, gave her a ride in the chopper. Cute kid, but kinda stuck up!"

"Yeah, tell me about it!" Bonnie cupped her hand to the headset to hear a bit better. It was something she'd seen people do on the TV after all, and it did seem to help. "I just… Well, I went to school with her. She used to call me Bonbon also. And you both have…"

"Red hair and green eyes?" She chuckled at her honey-colored passenger. She took a hand off the stick and pointed at her face, "I think you better stop and count…"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a knack for getting into trouble… but yeah!" She stared closely at Sara's face, actually forced herself to take it all in, including the thick pinkish scar that hid at the edges of her black eye patch. Had Sara's answer come a bit too fast?

Bonnie was hollering still over the noise of the rotors, and then suddenly, the entire cabin got much quieter. "Lots of trouble, all the time!"

Sara had twisted the squash plate and the expensive Bell Jet helicopter had risen in altitude by several hundred feet. No longer fighting stiff surface winds and ocean spray, everything in the well insulated cabin was now suddenly smooth and calm. Bonnie found that she no longer needed to press the headset painfully to her ear and felt a bit embarrassed about yelling.

"Yeah. She got me into trouble a few times." She said a bit more quietly. She suddenly felt silly for bringing it up, she'd never had fun with Kim and Kim's troubles. So obviously, whoever this was, since she wasn't wanting to claw the woman's eyes out; erm, claw her eye out, she wasn't Possible.

Sara chuckled a bit, she wasn't sure which was more fun, needling Bonnie over her erstwhile identity, or just having her along for the ride.

She remembered several times Bonnie had indeed been dragged into Kim's world of global crisis, mainly at cheerleading camp two years running, against that god-awful Gil guy. She remembered how Kim and Bonnie were constantly at each other's throats… even after coming to at least some understanding of why the girl was so catty towards Kim.

She also remembered the sway in Bonnie's hips that afternoon at the club, and that long red sleeveless dress. That was something Kim didn't remember. Sara grinned a bit and held on to that thought. It was one thing she had that said that she wasn't Kimberly Possible.

"Oh, did she? I hope I'm not bringing back any bad memories then. You don't seem to like being in trouble." She smirked at Bonnie and suddenly grabbed the stick and mashed the floor pedals.

Barrel rolling a helicopter was one of those things people just didn't do; mostly because those who did usually ended up dead. Then again, most people didn't have a helicopter with twin turbine engines, a retractable landing gear system, and missile-launchers under the winglets.

The shriek of shock in her head-set brought another mischievous grin to Sara's lips as she righted the Bell Jet and giggled. She looked over to Bonnie, expecting to see anger in her pale eyes at the stunt. She was a bit surprised to see only a little fluster there this time.

The irritation faded into a grin, and that only broadened Sara's own.

"No… I never had as much fun with her as I do with you, even if you are a loon!"

"The looniest… I told you to get used to it!" She grinned and banked the helicopter again, making an even more exaggerated roll, and hearing the motorcycle that was strapped down behind them threaten to break loose as she pushed the copter to its aerodynamic limits.

This time Bonnie's shriek was actually one of enjoyment, and she found herself giggling as she watched her companion working the stick and pedals to keep them at the edge of control.

This, she thought to herself as she pushed aside her doubts about Sara, was something she could get used to, sisters and family traditions be damned!

---

"Will?" Abbey looked up from her canteen tuna salad to her favorite director. "You used to be like, a super secret agent didn't you?"

"I guess you could say that..." Will Du looked to his steno-pool assistant turned romantic interest, chewing his own tuna salad more thoughtfully than he had been, as though it had suddenly developed a funny taste.

In fact, not only could Abbey say that, but as her theorem-quoting boss would say, 'She could say it with ninety-nine point nine percent certainty.'

Almost exactly one year ago, Director Du had made the monumental decision to take Global Justice public… thus recreating it as Global Justice Enforcement; free lance world police body. Prior to that though, he had been 'Top Secret Agent in Charge: Will Du.'

"Was it hard? Keeping all those secrets? Playing by rules no one else even knew existed? Didn't it kinda get to you that people didn't understand why you had to do the things you did?"

Du blinked and swallowed his bite. As usual, Abbey seemed to know exactly how his mind worked. It must be something she seemed to inherit from her odd uncle.

Rules. She, in his eyes of course, seemed to subscribe to no rules at all. Not even dress code, as her frilly pink corset, green ballet slippers, and bright blue fingernail polish bespoke. He was finding himself very attracted to that in her, that refreshing rule-bending streak.

Not that the corset was that unpleasant to behold, even if it clashed hideously with her 'Global Justice Blue' lab coat. He smirked to himself. How did a book-bound ex-secret agent end up with a glorified secretary to a chaos theorist anyway? He wondered if even Dr. Norm could puzzle that one out.

"Secret Rules. Yes. It got to be hard a times Abigail. Especially with free-lancers like Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable around. They had their own rules that they played by as well."

He thought back on running cross-purpose to Possible on numerous occasions. Sometimes things worked out in his favor back then. Usually though, they had worked out in hers. First it had been Killigan. After that there was the Fusion Oscillator that Professor Dementor had stolen; and then the San Francisco Tapioca incident…

Abbey seemed to shift very slightly in her chair. Something about the words own rules bugged her. And secret rules concerned her even more so. She stared at her silver-blue nail polish intently, watching her reflection in her fingernails.

"Why do you ask?" He neatly wiped his mouth with the dark blue Enforcement-issue napkin that had been carefully folded in his lap a moment before

"Well, what if someone was playing by an entirely different set of rules. And they could make you think those rules were the real rules?" Abbey's eyes, like her uncle Norm's, were mismatched; one was green, the other brown. Both were staring intently at Will, awaiting his answer.

"Sounds like Rasputin to me. He made the Russian Czar and his family play by his rules right up to the end… Thwarted the will of the peasants, held wild drunken orgies; and even affected the outcome of World War I, and to a lesser extent the rest of Russian and Soviet history." He ran his hands through short black hair, always kept 'high and tight.'

That disturbed something deep down in Abbey. Dr. Norm might be her uncle, but she didn't want to be his Alexandra, and she definitely didn't want Will to be his Nicholas.

"Will… I've got something to tell you. You're not going to like it. I mean, like one-hundred-percent not going to like it…"

And with that, Abbey Norm leaned in and began to tell Director Du all she knew.

It was a bit ironic actually, because he had had a very unusual telephone call that morning from Loaded Technologies. He'd brushed it off as professional jealousy, a washed up world saving team jealous of the real organization that was doing their job better than they had, brushed off until just now.

---

Back inside the ICU ward room, Ron was disappointed. Having left Monique in the hallway to stew in her (perceived) guilt, he'd hoped Shego could at least back up the gusto she'd shown when they'd come upon her coming out of her little bathroom. Instead, he'd found her flopped casually on the bed, listening to Wade explain his erroneous Green Wraith theories to her.

She looked up to him, her typical half-smirk cocking her lips to one side. "So, she give you what for?"

Ron's eyes flashed again, his irritation obviously not yet fully spent. He raised a hand to emphasize this and respond when Vivian, least likely of all the people in the room, interrupted.

"Oh no, we're not starting this now. Firstly, we're in a hospital, and not the only ones in ICU. Secondly, and more importantly…" She paused, looking to each face in the room, including Monique, who had almost timidly come back inside the door frame.

"…secondly, we've just doubled our resources. Shego... You seem to know where this Wraith character is and what she's doing now. Wade, Ron, and I know what she's been doing for the last few months. Namely ordering up every high-tech component she can get her hands on."

Wade nodded and handed out a printout of all the gear that Loaded Tech had inadvertently sold the new arch-criminal, including uranium micro-reactors, night vision and thermal goggles, plasma power couplers, and a bunch of items Shego couldn't even pretend to understand.

"What we don't understand," Ron finally spoke up, having eyed Shego archly for long enough, "Is what the crispy'fied sniper-team has to do with this, or the price of Nacos in Norway for that matter. You mentioned Global Justice Enforcement earlier, and the guy who wasn't a crispy-critter was wearing dark blue. He also managed to disappear in the suspicious absence of police the other morning."

Shego was suddenly very quiet. She looked into the eyes of the others in the room and chewed the inside of her lip in a very un-Shego-like manner. After a dangerously long moment, she looked directly into Ron's eyes.

"I'll explain… but only to Stopabble… The rest of you kids go grab some fresh air, or whatever it is kids do these days."

"Oh no you don't Miss Thang! I saved your ass… I get to hear this too." Monique stepped fully into the room and seemed to have regained some of her typical spunk. "You think you're going to play both ends against the middle with us, you got another thing or three coming stringbean!"

Ron turned slowly, tiredly, and faced her. She looked at him, fully prepared to back up her position through another heated exchange, and more slapping if need be. What she wasn't prepared for was the dull pain she found in his watery blue eyes. It was the kind she'd seen the night of the memorial; the kind she knew from personal experience that spoke of deep longing for something lost, and the exhaustion that brought to the heart.

Then she looked to Shego. She was surprised to see a flavor of the same sorrowful look there in the thief's brown eyes as well. She knew that Shego and Ron needed to share something now, the same way she and Ron had shared something a few months ago. "Yeah… okay. I'll… go get us some nosh. Cafeteria's open by now I guess. Wade, Viv, you coming?"

Vivian sat back, stunned as she caught Monique's, and then Wade's eyes. She was the newbie here, but she could feel something powerful had just swept through the room. It was like a sea-change, the entire language of this impromptu little team had shifted in one exchange of glances.

"Yeah… maybe you and Wade and I can talk about how to beat what we built the Wraith, Mon…" She felt extremely glum all of the sudden and tried to awkwardly bring some lightness to the room as the three of them shuffled reluctantly out the door, "Or maybe just what it is you and J. do every weekend in the Possible's basement?"

Monique made a noncommittal sound as they stepped out into the hallway, and Vivian Porter suddenly felt as though she'd have gotten a better response out of her old android boyfriend Oliver, since only his comedic timing was as legendarily bad as hers.

Ron, meanwhile, pulled up the guest chair and looked at Shego wearily. The dull, tired look went on for several minutes, as neither wanted to actually speak the name of the dead. Even though Ron had no idea exactly what Shego was going to say, and Shego had equally little idea what Ron knew… they both seemed psychically connected over what the topic of discussion was to be. It wasn't mysterious blue assassins.

Finally, Ron grew too weary of the silence. "All right Shego. Go on. It's just you and me. The four of us go way back you know."

Ron looked to the ceiling to emphasize the heavy presence of the ghosts in the room, and Shego nodded, again pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

"Global Justice set us all up, Stoppable." she began quietly and bitterly. She couldn't look at him as she began to recount her suspicions, but she continued before he could interject, not needing to look at the former teen hero to know he would do just that if the pause got too long.

"A few days before Dr. D and I lugged that damned trans-sexual vortex vacuuminator up the tower, he told me he found something he didn't remember installing in it. Drakken was a lot of things, but he was never sloppy about his machines, you know that." She looked up to Ron for confirmation, nothing more.

"Yeah. He was good at building 'em… just not running them." Ron nodded, his eyes peering into the past and forcing him to relive the things he'd seen that night.

"I blew him off. Damnit Ron I blew him off! GJ had arrested him not two weeks before, and raided his lair. It never occurred to me that they could have… that they might want to… do anything to his machines. We'd been busted so many times that year that I just chalked it up to more bad luck. I guess they were watching us the whole fucking time."

Shego sighed and flopped fully back into her bed, all the fire and pep she'd had earlier that evening evaporating. She looked to Ron again and groaned as she reached for a glass of water, that simple act seeming to sap inordinately more energy than it should from her.

"So you're saying they did something to this thing he built?"

"You're quick, aren't you doofus?" Ron gave her a sour look. He didn't fail to notice, however, that she'd called him by name three times before that.

"…and you're bitter, aren't you sparky? But please… go on."

She gave him a weak smirk and nodded, "Yeah… well, after a few weeks after the…"

She paused again, seeming to draw up the strength to say the words. She failed to after a moment, and went on, glossing over them. "Meh… after the thing…. I finally came out of hiding. I was cruising a local pilot's bar I know down in the Big Easy when I heard this dickwad shooting his mouth off about being the first chopper on the scene that night."

Ron arched a sandy blonde brow at her, but allowed her to continue uninterrupted. Shego was being pretty honest, a rare thing indeed, and he didn't want to lose that, or this thread.

"You know just like I do that there weren't any choppers there that night. FAA grounded everything just like they did after 9/11. Well, least that's the official line. So I plied him with a few drinks, stroked his…" She smirked at Ron, a bit more of the old Shego wryness there again, "…ego, and invited him to the bathroom."

Ron made a small face, and the green skinned woman chuckled, gratified by the expected reaction. She debated suggesting she'd done something Kimmie could never have done, but she was just a little too weary to pull off more humor than she already had.

"Well, anyways… Once the stall door closed, I stroked him… quite a bit harder." She clawed the fingers of her right hand in a wickedly dangerous manner and considered them with eyes that momentarily flashed over to plasma-green at the darkly rewarding memory of her first act of vengeance.

"Well, after I shoved the live grenade down his pants… trust me, there was plenty of room there without his dick in the way…" She looked to Ron again and saw him swallow.

He clearly understood the unspoken removal of the man's anatomy, and she watched his eyes move over her fingers as though he could see the same blood there that she now remembered seeing there that night.

"…once I shoved it in there, he told me just why he was the first responder. Then he fall-down-go-boom."

"What did he tell you Shego?" Ron prompted after a long moment during which they both looked at the suspect hand and its phantom blood.

"He was the pilot of a top-secret helicopter Ron… One with two passengers." She looked to him, and then laid her hand back at her side, ignoring the imagined blood that came straight from Lady Macbeth's guilt.

"Let me guess… a tall one, and one who was, up until recently, short and fat."

"And the doofus wins a cigar. Yes Stoppable. Someone from Global Justice owns a Stealth Helicopter that has shrapnel of the Sears Tower, pieces of a trans-continental pipeline rejuvenator, and our Kimmie's hide spattered all over it."

Ron shuddered at the mental image that brought. His eyes were closed, or he would have seen Shego wince at her description as well. "So… you've managed to hunt them down, and kill two of them."

Looking up to him, Shego saw Ron being surprisingly calm about her confessing to no less than two murders. "I wish I could say that I did… but I only killed the one on purpose. The other two hunted me down. Ron. They know that I know. And I'm guessing that since I'm here and not in hand-cuffs that they hushed up our little memorial service last week pretty tightly."

Ron nodded grimly as pieces slid into place. "Yeah… the cops never showed up. Mrs. P can't get anything out of the funeral home about why Kim's headstone was shot to hell. Frankly, I don't want to tell her. The TV news didn't report that anything more interesting than 'a drive by shooting in southern Middleton' happened that day."

"I miss Betty Director… at least she played by the fucking rules. Woman had pretty good taste in music too, Janice Joplin, Aretha Franklin, Christina Aguilera..." Shego took her turn to stare off into the middle distance thoughtfully.

Ron finally noticed the prolonged silence and opened his mouth to speak when his kimmunicator chimed out four notes that made them both smile softly and sadly.

"Haven't changed it yet, huh?"

"I tried once… it just wasn't the same… I guess it was 'our song.'"

"Ours too." Shego's expression was a sad little smirk this time, and Ron pondered it a moment. The smartphone chimed again and he picked it up, broken from his reverie.

"Well, speak of the fucking devil…"

"Stoppable, your mouth is getting worse than mine! What would Princess say?" Ron gave her a pained expression, but hit the answer key without rising to her jibe.

"Director Du… you're the last person I expected to hear from at the moment."

---

Sara leapt out of the black Bell Jet and bounded around the front to the passenger side door. The blades were still spinning down slowly over her head as she tossed the door open and grinned up at Bonnie.

"Where the hell did you learn to do a forward rolling rotation?"

Bonnie took Sara's offered hand and slid down out of the copter, smirking coolly and running a hand through her short hair, her icey blue eyes flashing playfully. "From this fucking insane girl I know, maybe you've seen her? About this tall…"

Sara laughed and smacked Bonnie's hand when it was held up to what was her own height. "You learned how to do that watching me? I'm getting slow in my old age then. Usually my fingers work faster than the eye can see…"

Her green eye flashed coyly and she demonstrated by reaching around and pinching Bonnie on her taught backside. Meanwhile Sara's other arm deftly lifted something from Bonnie's pocket book, which had somehow survived the escape from London, and the trans-Atlantic helicopter flight.

Bonnie was so shocked by the pinch that it took her a moment to register that Sara was holding a condom in her mechanical left hand.

"Well, I know this isn't intended for me… so maybe we need to talk about some things little Miss. Didn't your mother ever teach you that only girls who are expecting things to happen carry these?"

She smirked and laughed as Bonnie tried to snatch the neon pink wrapper from her.

"Sara! Damn it that's not funny! Give it back!" She kept trying to grab at the square wrapper, her honey cheeks turning a shade of scarlet. Surprisingly, most especially to herself, she wasn't angry; just incredibly embarrassed.

It took her a moment to realize a few things about the exchange when she finally pried the prophylactic from her companion's fingers. One was that she didn't hesitate at all to reach right for Sara's prosthetic left hand to retrieve the condom. She was really getting comfortable with her traveling companion, because she also didn't notice the eye patch any more either.

Two was that her backside still tingled from the pinch, and not just from the sting. It took a moment for this bit of forbidden knowledge to actually penetrate years of long-maintained shields; to that part of her brain that allowed to consider just why that was.

She took a deep breath as she slid the Trojan back into her pocket book, which was then returned to her pocket. She turned a blushing, yet playfully accusing glance on Sara.

"A girl has to plan for the unexpected. Besides…" Bonnie's trademark cool delivery returned from the dead at that moment. Years of neglect didn't dull her sharp tongue in the least. She was perfectly able to unleash the next stinging line with the same delicious calculation that she had once used to deliver declarations of who was and was not cool.

"Even a plastic pal needs a little protection silly girl." It was a line pulled off absolutely icily.

This time it was Sara who stood dumbstruck. It took her a moment to register that what she had just heard was not an insult, but an admission about her partner's bedroom habits. Somewhere in the back of her brain, something questioned the mental choice of the word partner to describe Bonnie.

Bonnie couldn't maintain the haughty façade for very long though, that much she was out of practice with. She collapsed into a fit of giggling as Sara's lightly freckled cheeks blushed flaming pink and she gave Bonnie a sour look for being caught out.

"What, you can yank a wrap out of my bag, but you can't handle a little dildo talk?"

Sara Smith, expert thief, owner of the knowledge and body of a world hero, and holder of the moniker of the mysterious Green Wraith, found that no; indeed she couldn't handle a little dildo talk.

However, somewhere in her mind, the word dildo was associated to the word need, and that in turn was associated to the word "lubricated" that she'd seen clearly printed on the bright pink wrapper. The bright pink wrapper in turn linked up with the part of her brain that remembered Kim's health class; and what physical processes triggered such things as need, lubrication; and in a short burst of carnal logic, why things needed lubrication.

Before she realized it, her eye was moving subtly up and down Bonnie's long slender dancer's body. Bonnie seemed to notice the glance at the same moment Sara stopped making it, and both women coughed and suddenly looked anywhere but at each other.

"Yeah, well…" Sara finally broke the awkward, pregnant silence, "Guess we should unpack the bike and tie down the copter."

Bonnie rapidly agreed, and began moving through the motions they'd both repeated over the last few days of rolling the wounded motorcycle out of the helicopter, and then tying the stays to each of its four blades and tying the wheels to the ground to secure their main conveyance.

Then she grabbed the small bags that each had packed during their last stop in Newfoundland, and moved over to the bike. Sara moved, perhaps a bit shyly still, to straddle the Speed Triple; and Bonnie slid on behind her, though not as close as she had the previous times they had ridden together.

The two women rode off from the deserted little airstrip and into the southern suburbs of Chicago, where Sara hoped to distract herself repairing the bike, and Bonnie hoped to distract herself by doing anything other than thinking about that last exchange; or the way the shorter woman felt hunched against her now as the wind again tosseled that short strawberry hair and blew it back against Bonnie's cheek.

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Author's Notes Additional: Well, Shego and Ron share a fairly private moment here. And they now are both a lot closer to the root cause of their problems.

Bonnie and Sara also share a fairly private moment… and maybe they're a bit closer to the root of something too, though it's not exactly a problem.


	17. Chapter 17

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 17

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Now I wish I could do that with office supplies!

Now, on with the Story...

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Dr. Al Norm looked up from the back seat of the white Explorer and focused his eyes on the third hotel on his list. The damned Wraith was not behaving according to pattern. The most expensive hotels in Chicago had no one checked in recently fitting his profile.

The profile was a young, single, athletic woman in her early twenties, who carried two large suitcases and one garment bag along with an expensive black purse. He hissed and turned back to Abbey, who had been unusually quiet. She wasn't even attending to her nails today. He looked at her archly until she finally sighed and looked back, accepting the unspoken invitation to conversation reluctantly.

"I do not understand, Abbey. Not even a single blip within the predicted range… where is this woman at?"

"Maybe it's not a woman?" Abbey was spitballing. She had no idea what was going on here. Uncle Al had dragged her suddenly off to Chicago ranting about a black helicopter and angles of intersection. "I meant…. Um… those breasts on the Green Wraith's suit… maybe they're fake?"

Norm sighed and rubbed his palms through his alternating patches of curly and straight hair, tugging at them until a few strands came free in his fingers.

"No… the probability of such a severe deviation from social norms is less than two tenths of one percent. No… not a man pretending to be a woman. This Shego-want-to-be is imitating her heroine right down to her body posture and dress… I would not be surprised if she had dyed her hair black, and even met up with the damned woman!"

Abbey blinked as Dr. Norm seemed to manifest a clipboard from thin air and began to scribble notes on it. How the heck did he do that? "Um, Uncle Norm… you seem a lil… stressed. What if we go get some dinner, take an hour off, and relax…? Slim said Monique and Shego were still in California…"

He mumbled something incoherent and continued scribbling.

Slim, in the front of the Explorer, stared out the front window, thinking food sounded good. These white SUV's in his opinion, had been a great idea as well… too many people associated shiny black vans and trucks with clandestine stuff… the slightly dusty white SUVs they had now never warranted a second glace. He rubbed the pain in his still-cracked ribs softly and sighed, popping a few more ibuproferene and trying to spot anyone that matched the Doc's descriptions.

Abbey looked at her chipped nails and sighed in the back of the Explorer when she got no response. One nail was not chipped of course, and that was the important one. It was the false one with the nano-dot microphone glued underneath that was relaying all of this to the various GJE operatives that had been following them the last three days.

Norm mumbled something, having filled his entire clipboard with incredibly small scripts and calculations. He set it aside; and this time Abbey was looking directly at him, so she was sure he couldn't have just pulled it from under the seat or inside his long multi-colored coat. She watched as Dr Al Norm reached into thin air.

Blinking in complete incomprehension as he pinched his fingers together and tugged abbey almost gasped aloud. Out of the air between them, as though it were tucked away in some invisible filing cabinet that only he could see, he drew yet another clip board. It slid into existence without much fanfare, and Abbey was hard pressed to describe how it did so. It was like pulling something out from between two sheets of paper in a stack; it just seemed to extend out of nowhere. Dr. Norm even seemed to give a little tug to pull the end with the clip mechanism out of the air.

Then he sat back and put his ink pen to it and began scribbling again as though nothing had happened. He didn't even notice that Abbey was watching him as though he had a second nose and three ears. "Abbey dear… open that window would you… the air currents in here are less than optimal. Proper oxygenation is key to good brain function."

Fairly well flabbergasted, Abbey complied and pushed the window button, lowering the back passenger window down and staring out onto the street. She practically leaned out the window after exchanging a glance with the wounded "Slim" as he propped a thickly bandaged thigh up on the front passenger seat.

'great… just what the heck have you gotten yourself into now Abbigail Norm? you shoulda stayed back home on the farm like momma wanted, not gone running off with weird uncle Al to the big city.'

---

On the street, just passing by was the usual Chicago foot traffic. No one noticed the slender redhead in the leather jacket, or the leggy California girl who had a tan in Chi-town in March. They didn't really stick out from the other residents and tourists, aside from carrying bags from the most expensive shops in all of downtown.

Bonnie's crystal blue eyes caught the girl leaning out the window of a common middle-class SUV, and her rejuvenated attitude took her in, in the same manner that Queen Bonnie would have back at MHS. It was amazing how much younger she felt hanging around Sara. Like the years of working off a deep personal shame in London had never happened.

"Did you see that girls nails? Metallic blue? As if! What does she think; she's in a hair-band video lying on top of a car like a slut?" She chuckled quietly and elbowed Sara in the ribs lightly as they moved on.

Sara, for her part, enjoyed Bonnie's renewed energy but the cattiness really didn't do much for her. Still, she turned to see what had caught her companion's attention, and just shrugged at the girl leaning out of the SUV. It was as her eye was turning away again that it caught something in the periphery.

It tickled something buried deep in the back of her brain. No, in the deep recesses of Kim's brain actually. She stopped suddenly and closed her eye, wanting to recall what it was. Getting in touch with some of Kim's memories was indeed getting harder for her. Normally she couldn't care any less about that, but there were times when Kim Possible's knowledge had saved her ass over these past few months.

She started to actually get a little dizzy, working to find whatever intangible thing the other woman's memories were whispering to her about. It continued to elude her as she squeezed her eye tightly shut and concentrated on why the front of a white Franzz Explorer would catch her attention.

Bonnie stopped and looked at her a little concernedly. "Sara? I'm sorry, I didn't say anything that… Sara? Hello, are you okay?"

With growing worry, Bonnie looked at her friend and bit her lower lip. She sat her bags down and rested her hands on Sara's shoulders and shook her slightly, concerned that this girl who was so full of energy and wild fire had suddenly gone completely unresponsive. Even her green eye, which had drifted open, was dull and lacking its typical feisty glinting edge.

"Sara… Sara! Sara Smith, wake up this instant! This is so not funny! If this is another damned joke I'll have your ass!" Bonnie was panicking pretty thoroughly, shaking the woman hard and staring at her freckled face intently.

And suddenly Sara snapped back into being, that same wickedly coy smirk reappearing on her pink lips as she grinned at Bonnie. "Is that a threat, or a promise Bonbon? Cause I'm told my ass is not easy to get, and very highly desired in some circles."

Bonnie groaned loudly with something between irritation and relief and was momentarily tempted to smack Sara, and then she was momentarily tempted to grab her up in a hug full of joy. She did neither.

Sara chuckled throatily and picked up her momentarily discarded bags, walking on down the street to the Chicago Regency Hyatt and putting a sway into her hips that she was sure her partner in crime would notice.

Still, the knowledge she had finally pried from deep within Kim's memories, after what felt like an hour of concentration, disturbed her. Why the hell was Global Justice sitting on the street here? That was one of their well disguised license plates on the explorer after all…

---

In Middleton, Anne Possible was doing something very unusual; she was being red faced and infuriated, and shaking a finger at a cowed young man with blonde hair and a stubbly goatee.

The retired Dr. Possible virtually never lost her cool, and she definitely never thought that the one she would be spitting mad at would be the boy who she'd watched grow up chasing Kimmie around the back yard and fretting over her grass-stained knees.

"Ronald Dean Stoppable, if you weren't a grown man I'd call your parents and… and!" She grit her teeth and growled, starting at the man who sat on her couch next to Monique, neither of whom looked at her, only at their own hands folded in their laps.

"And you Monique…" She whirled on the dark-skinned girl and sighed loudly, "…in my own house… with my two surviving children! And to think that all I was worried about was dating and sex between you and Jim!"

The two young people shrank back at the rarely displayed, and barely contained, fury in Anne's voice. Somehow, Mrs. Dr. Possible had found out through one of her old co-workers about a 'Shimara Gostein' being checked into Middleton General with gunshot wounds, and an unusual skin condition. It hadn't taken her long, in their opinions, to figure out the woman with the "skin fungus" was not Ron's cousin from Tel Aviv.

"Shego! Of all people! Ron! That girl… she…!" the normally articulate brain surgeon was degenerating to using monosyllables, not a good sign.

"That girl is standing right here. And for the last damned time, she… I… didn't kill your daughter." Shego had somehow come to be standing in the door frame of the living room, leaning against it in a disturbingly casual manner and taking in the scene.

Ron and Monique looked up in surprise, because the last they remembered, she was still confined to the ICU with small hole in her belly that had yet to heal. Ron was surprised to see that the hole had faded almost completely to just a small scab; surprised more so because Shego wasn't in her normal uniform, but a green belly-bearing sweater and low cut black jeans.

Anne spun on her, first in shock, and then in a pure anger that backed even the ever-confident Shego up just a step. If Ron and Monique hadn't been quick enough to get up and put their hands on Dr. Possible's shoulders, they were certain she would have actually attacked the former bane of Team Possible right there.

"You certainly didn't hang around to save her or Ron did you!?" The older woman spat, and despite the restraining hands on her shoulders, managed to advance a step further.

Shego didn't actually retreat this time, but she certainly didn't meet the blue-green eyes of Kim's mother either.

Monique could tell things were degenerating pretty fast now, and moved around between the two older women, putting her hands on Anne's shoulders and physically stopping her now.

"Dr. P… think about the baby! You need to take a chill pill like right now. Stressing is majorly not good for Kim's Little Sister!"

This seemed to finally get through to Anne, and she stopped pushing against Ron and Monique to get at the current target of her ire. She stood up, and sank her face into her palms, inhaling sharply and trying to regain any semblance of my composure. She stood there and Ron and Monique tentatively released their hands from her shoulders.

After a few trembling sighs and a long heavy moment of silence, Anne raised her hand and pointed towards the door. "Get the hell out of my family's house… all of you."

If Ron's sharp curse the night before had been enough to still a room full of heroes, the whispered profanity from Anne Possible may as well have been a thunder clap from on high.

After a moment of shocked silence at being banished so completely, the three of them quietly left the Possible household. They all sat down in Monique's latest ride, a long sleek crossover station-wagon in jet black, and simply stewed in guilt and sadness.

"Kim always wanted a little sister" Ron finally lamented a few moments later as they still sat in the drive way.

"Yeah… she would have made the best big sis in the world."

"Yeah, so cool. Chasing off the little boys coming to see her sister, teaching her about makeup and dresses, playing house…"

Ron and Monique looked at Shego as bereavement gave way slowly to shock. She actually thought about things like makeup and playing house?

She returned their dumb look for a second, and then her green lips split into a grin, "Don't tell me you think I was never a little girl too? I wish I'd had a sister to do those things with."

Monique was suddenly turning the keys in the ignition and reaching for the gear shift. Ron opened his mouth to ask why, but he caught a very mournful looking Mrs. Dr. Possible looking out the window at them.

"Um Yeah… Maybe we better go." They pulled the CruiseWagon out of the driveway, and Ron felt deeply sad.

'_Get the hell out of my family's house… all of you.'_ The words still echoed in his mind as they pulled away and he looked back. He'd always been an adopted member of the Possible Clan… Heck, he was the only boy to ever be allowed into KP's room.

Those words burned something deep inside his core, and he found that it felt was no better or worse than if his own parents had disowned him.

Two kimmunicators chimed in the car as they rolled down the cul-de-sac; his own, with the achingly familiar four note tone, and Monique's, with her own three note trilling.

"What's the 'sitch Wade?"

"Talk to me J."

The answers were reflexive. The single face on the other end of both kimmunicators, though, was not one either had been expecting. The sight of the law dog on those screens made Shego's hands ignite, also a reflex.

"Ronald… Monique… erm, and Shego…" Will Du's face adorned both kimmunicators, and a second later, also the car's large onboard navigation display.

"Please, before you say anything, listen to me. Ronald, I'm very upset that you hung up on me last night. What I have to say is of critical importance."

A sudden bolt of whirling green and black fire incinerated the nav-screen and expressed Shego's response succinctly. Unfortunately, it also filled the cabin of the CruiseWagon with acrid black smoke and made it completely impossible for any of them to see, as the stench and bubbling smoke of burning plastic watered their eyes and burned at their noses.

"Damn it girl! I just bought this car!" Monique coughed as she managed to pull the crossover safely to a stop and roll down all five windows, trying vainly to vent the cloying smoke.

Finally, they abandoned the car and stood coughing and gagging in the suburban street, it took a few moments for them to realize Director Du was still waiting on the two surviving screens. Shego grabbed Ron's and sneered into its video pickup.

"What do you want ass hole? Begging for mercy before I find out where you hid Betty Director's body and come for your head?"

"Shego, shut up." It was a far more curt response than was typically heard from Will Du, and it hushed the thief for a moment. "Ronald, Monique. You're needed in Chicago. The rouge asset of Global Justice Enforcement that we believe is responsible for some… unpleasantness, is there. I think you understand my meaning."

Ron, still trying to compose himself, looking bleary eyed and coughing a bit, grabbed his 'com back from Shego. "And why the hell would we trust you? We don't work for you. Team Possible's liaison with Global Justice ended with you killed Kim."

He looked to Shego, who nodded her affirmation. Monique, apparently hearing all this for the first time, looked between her two counterparts, and then to her own kimmunicator.

"Director Du?" She looked into her little screen and felt cold dread spread inside of her.

"No Monique, it's not true. And whether you believe it or not, go to Chicago and find out for yourselves. The asset is there, and I think you'll find he's suitably obsessed to qualify as unhinged over Kim Possible, Shego, or whoever this Green Wraith is."

The man had said the secret word.

"Fine. If it means I can get my hands on that bitch, I'll see to another one of your dogs while I'm at it Du… but don't forget I'm still coming for you too." Shego had this time grabbed Monique's 'com and seemed on the verge of reaching through the screen to get him when it blanked out.

A moment later, Ron's kimmunicator chimed out its four notes again. He clicked it on wearily this time, not sure he wanted another exchange like that one. Thankfully, this time it was Wade and Vivian.

"Oh thank god… I've had about all the drama I can take… Wade, Buddy, please tell me this is good news?"

"Depends on your definition of good, Ron. I just got a data packet from Global Justice about our _other_ green friend, the Wraith. Apparently her helicopter was spotted in Chicago."

"We know," Monique intoned, snatching her smart-phone back from Shego exasperatedly, "Will Du just called and told us as much, and said there's some guy in Chicago who is tied up in all this."

She looked archly from Shego to Ron and then back to her own screen as she tapped into Ron's call with her version of the kimmunicator, "String Bean and White Bread here have been holding out on me… so can you please fill me in?"

"oooohkay, let me look," Wade's head moved to focus on another of his monitors. After a moment though, it was Vivian's head that popped up.

"Got it. The data packet says that an informant fingered Dr. Allen Norm," she made a face as she read the name listed, "Al Norm… you've got to be kidding me! What's next? Abbey Norm? …anyways, fingered Dr. Allen Norm, Head of Theoretical Research and Statistics, as the rouge agent who ordered a black-bag operation at Sears Tower on October 29."

Wade chimed in once more sliding back into view beside his office mate, "Sorry guys, looks like you're heading back to the Windy City either way.

"Great… Chicago…" Ron, Monique, and Shego all moaned out in unison.

---

A few hours later, Sara was at the large desk of their suite in the Regency, using a few precision tools to open a hatch on the side of the Green Wraith's arm. Beside her sat a slightly battered leather briefcase that was far heavier than it looked. This owed to the fact that it was lined with lead and contained two very small sticks of Uranium 235, which were about the size of a pair of AA batteries, and which served the same purpose.

Once she'd slid the old power supply module free, she picked up a precision screwdriver and began to remove the two small screws that held the halves of its shell together. As she did so, she heard the bathroom door opening and slight humming coming from within, and felt a rush of humidity hit the back of her neck.

"Really like those hot steamy showers, don't you Bonbon?" She chewed on her lip as she worked the tiny screws, and finally saw them clip free, revealed the sticks of Uranium that were there, but now too weak to power her beloved suit and its remarkable powers.

"Yeah, the steam really feels great after all that helicopter riding… I know it's fun, but those damned jumpsuits just make me so itchy! Maybe we should design them in satin or something… What's that stuff your super-suit is made out of?"

Unbidden, an image of Bonnie's long lean frame, garbed in the gray jumpsuits they wore the last time they flew, came into Sara's mind. It made her momentarily pause in her careful actions and she smiled a bit.

Then she realized Bonnie had asked about the suit. "You… You know about that?"

"Well Duh! You're working on part of it right now… As if?!" She chuckled and came over behind Sara to see what she was doing. "Besides… I lived in London for three years. I think after going to school with the likes of the _famous_ Kim Possible, I know how to recognize the person who was running all over London stealing jewels."

She was about to continue elaborating on how she could tell who and what Sara was, leaning as she was, over Sara and curiously watching her work, when she froze.

Crystal blue eyes widened at the symbols stamped all over the battery pack Sara had in her hands. The little three bladed triangle with a circle in the middle, "Wh- what… what the… You're fucking nuclear?!"

Bonnie slowly backed away from the desk and moved to hide behind the door of the bathroom, as though it would protect her from Hiroshima in a suit case. Ironically, it actually would. Sara Smirked in her usual manner and carefully continued working as though she actually were holding two alkaline batteries, and not nuclear fissionable material.

"What? Never took Advanced Prep Chem in school? Uranium only releases alpha particles Bonbon…" She again chewed her lips as she carefully slid the top half of the power pack away, and lifted out one of the spent sticks, slipping it into the now open briefcase.

"I don't care if it releases rainbows and angel farts! Get it the hell out of here!" She was still peeking nervously around the door, watching the carrot-topped thief work away.

"Rainbows and angel farts… that's cute!" Sara chuckled as she slipped the second spent stick out and also slipped it into the case, and then lifted the two fresh rods out to insert them. "Bonbon, hun, alpha particles can't even penetrate human skin… You're at more risk getting a good sun tan than turning into the 'She-thing' from this stuff."

Sara carefully left out the part about powdered uranium causing any sort of cancers and tumors the same way asbestos could when it was airborne or on the skin, and slowly began screwing the two halves of the power pack together. "Have you lost any hair carrying my briefcase around for four days, or riding with the arm here? Am I bald and glowing in the dark?"

Bonnie shook her head after a moment, chewing her plump lower lip and watching Sara reassemble the power pack and start reattaching it to wires in the heavy metal arm. "No… but still…"

She noticed that the only protection Sara seemed to be wearing was a latex glove on her natural right hand. "Um… your… other…. arm?"

"Nope… just plain old Lithium Ion." She patted just below her left shoulder, and then took a bit less care with the power pack clipped back in, more casually screwing the cover plates back in place.

"Just… Just get it out of here, please?" Bonnie remained behind the door to the bathroom, fingers clutched nervously around its edge as she watched Sara finish up.

"What," Sara turned around in the chair, holding the heavy gold and green Wraith combat arm in her lap. There was a wicked grin on her lips as she held it up for examination, "We can talk about playing around with your toys, but not mine?"

"Sara!" Bonnie suddenly seemed to lose a bit of her trepidation when the 'toy' was mentioned. She opened her mouth to lay into her about the differences between a battery powered personal massager and a uranium powered blaster, but she shrieked as Sara tossed the heavy arm at the bathroom door.

The door was slammed soundly shut and the armored combat limb thumped against it and dropped limply to the floor. Sara cackled loudly, rolling back in her chair for a moment and clapping her hands around her sides as she heard Bonnie whimpering behind the bathroom door.

After composing herself for a moment, she got up and went over, knocking on the bathroom door, still chuckling faintly. "I'm sorry Bonbon… I didn't meant to scare you… but it really is harmless."

She suddenly giggled as her brain latched onto a pun about harmless and armless, "Please come out?"

"Fuck you Sara, that shit isn't funny!" came the response from the door. "You know, I was almost mutated twice in high school? I don't need more problems like that!"

Sara softly shook her head, and after a moment was able to recall the misadventures at Camp Wannaweep. "Okay… Look, I'm sorry… I promise; no more bad jokes… I'll get the suitcase out of here… Okay, I'll even take the arm back to the helicopter… please, Bonbon?"

Sara was surprised at the sound in her own voice, she was almost pleading with Bonnie to come out of the bathroom.

Finally, after a protracted moment Bonnie opened the door a crack and peeked out at her troublesome partner, "You swear?"

Sara bent over to pick up the fallen arm, and smiled up into Bonnies blue eyes. "Promise… cross my heart and hope to die, again."

The last part was a whisper Bonnie couldn't hear, with Sara nearer her feet than her ears; so she relented and opened the door, stepping out again. Sara was suddenly dumbstruck by the sight of the woman in a soft white oversized Turkish bathrobe that was loosely tied against the humidity of the bathroom.

As she stood up slowly, she was a little flustered and fairly… well fuck it, she could admit she was impressed by Bonnie's body. The arm held in her arms twitched its fingers a bit and whirred. Bonnie gritted her teeth tightly, but didn't shriek or back away this time.

"Sorry, um… it really does have a mind of its own… some toy huh?" Sara said it weakly, a little embarrassed now. The truth was both of her artificial arms were operated by a wireless network circuit implanted in her remnant limb, and sometimes if she held one, even while it wasn't attached, it would move a bit.

"Just… Just get it out of here… please." Bonnie sighed and leaned heavily against the door frame.

Sara nodded softly and turned away, moving to slip the arm back into the golf bag that camouflaged it. She clipped and locked the briefcase and before long was out the hotel-room door with both.

Bonnie, still leaning against the bathroom door with her face in her hands, began to chuckle after the front door closed. It was a sound of relief; and of growing humor as she realized the thought that had been tickling at her brain for the last few seconds because of the twitching prosthesis. "A mind of its own… Sara's got a damned penis attached to her arm!"

She laughed loudly for several seconds at that one, not realizing that Sara's mechanical hand had acted the way it had because it responded to the urges the aforementioned organ also would have on seeing her in a bathrobe.

Bonnie finally retreated back into the bathroom to finish cleaning up and pulled on her pajama's, the expensive cinnamon-colored satin ones from the days shopping. Then she decided to see what was on TV. She was suddenly finding that even more than a few minutes without the little redhead around could be exceedingly boring.

---

As Sara hung the little golf bag up in the back of the helicopter, she just shook her head a bit. She thought again about the way the deadly clawed talons of the armor-plated limb had twitched in response to Bonbon and smirked a dangerous little smirk.

"NO… definitely not a toy in _that _way. That would hurt." She giggled a little and shivered at the thought.

She was too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice the movement behind her until it was almost too late. A pair of dark-blue suited arms grabbed her from behind and yanked her backwards and away from the golf bag.

If she'd been a fraction slower in even tensing her body up against the attack, she would have been completely immobilized. Fortunately thief's instincts had finally kicked in and told her someone was behind her even as she was grabbed.

"What the fuck?!" came the involuntary cry as she was yanked back and out of the Bell Jet.

She kicked at the slender frame behind her that was grabbing her and holding her in the air. If he was holding her off the ground, he must be at least seven feet tall!

She was unceremoniously dumped on the tarmac and sprung back, crouching into a defensive pose and eyeing the tall man in the moonlight of the early evening.

"Bandages? What are you, a fucking Mummy?" She eyed the tall slender man and flexed herself, suddenly wishing she had put the other arm in the bag and kept her combat limb. He had what were obviously braces and dressings on one thigh and his torso, but he also had a good two feet on her in height.

"Yeah… your little clone Shego… Say hi to her when you meet her later on, you won't be alone in death for long." He was leveling a gun at her as he spoke.

Fortunately, even though it was her dress-casual limb, Sara's prosthetic arm wasn't _completely_ defenseless. She whipped it upwards and squeezed her fingers together just so. A stream of oily black liquid sprayed out of a nozzle under her wrist and hit "Slim" right in the face.

He howled, first in frustration, and then in pain as the liquid began to irritate and burn his face and eyes. It wasn't anything serious, but Sara knew from experience when she had accidentally spilled a cartridge of the liquid on her fingers one day that it made MACE seem like a light aftershave rinse.

Unfortunately for Sara, Slim was a trained Global Justice Enforcement agent. A little thing like a face full of concentrated pepper, isocane, and menthol liquid wasn't going to slow him down.

She was surprised a split second later when he took a big stride forward and his long arms allowed him to clock her across the jaw and send her sprawling. It took her a second to come fully to her shocked senses and make the word stop spinning. Eyeing the tall GJE man up and down, she was suddenly glad the yelp of pain from the PIM spray had made him drop his gun, or it would be a bullet hole on her cheek right now, not a bruise.

Swinging his fists in the air now, he figured his target was out of range for the moment; so Slim paused and scrubbed at his eyes. He cleared them out just in time to feel a cold plastic palm close around his crotch with a whirring sound, starting to click as its gears stripped, Sara trying to ruin his chances of procreation.

Never in his life was he so grateful for the composite and titanium athletic protector that was standard issue at GJE. He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed his forehead downwards into hers, the height difference between the five-two girl and the seven-foot-four-inch man making it a fairly stunning blow.

"You fight dirty! Damned women!" Slim dropped back into his own crouch and watched Sara regain hers with a slight wobble, rubbing her forehead.

"What, you think I'm gonna just let you grab me, rape me, and kill me? Puh-lease!" She snorted, and glanced down out of the corner of her eye at her mechanical hand, seeing it move a little more weakly on stripped bearings.

In order to do this, she had to bring her intact right eye down across her body to her left prosthetic limb, and that was all the distraction Slim needed. He closed the distance and swung another long armed boxing punch at Sara, connecting with her left cheek just beneath her eye patch and again sending her sprawling, but this time he wasn't dropping back after the blow.

Before Sara could either recover her balance or hit the ground, she gasped as five rabbit punches landed on her undefended flank and kidney and changed the direction of her fall. She grunted as she hit the ground, curling her right arm around her left side to protect the wounded kidney as she tried to roll away. Fuck that had hurt!

Her reward for covering her abdomen was that the boot that was meant to rupture her spleen succeeded only in deeply bruising her forearm. She was lucky he wasn't wearing steel toes or her arm would have a new and useless fourth joint right now.

Grabbing his ankle up in her mechanical hand, Sara attempted to crush it, but groaned as the weakened digits failed the task. She tightened herself against another kick, but fortunately this one was more about getting her off of his leg than doing damage.

Rolling away, she scrabbled to her feet and let go of her wounded belly and side despite her instincts to cover her wounds. She grunted, because she could feel her left cheek hot and swelling, and knew if she wasn't already missing that eye, that it would have been uselessly swollen shut soon anyway.

She had to think. This guy was way too big for her to fight like she had Shego, plus she no longer had the benefit of the Wraith armor to protect her from blows and to plasma'fie this dick.

Wait a minute… Dick! Just because she couldn't crush his assets didn't mean it wasn't still a weak point.

As she wearily circled Slim, Sara worked her mechanical wrist and let go a mental sigh of relief as it gave a tiny dribble of PIM. 'good, the pump is still working, now I just have to…'

Her thoughts were cut off as her lungs betrayed her for the first time in weeks. She was wracked by a fit of phlegmy coughs that forced her to double over. She instinctively started backtracking to maintain the distance between Slim and herself, but she was hacking and gagging too hard to do much else; and her damned inhaler was… was… where the fuck was it anyway?!

Her adrenaline rush had prevented her from feeling the first signs of tightness in her lungs, but now she was hard pressed to draw any oxygen and she continued to fall back, until she felt her back press into a chain-link fence in the darkness.

"Well, now or never!" she managed to gasp out to herself and charged Slim even as he was closing with her.

She got just inside his arms and he gripped her up in a bear hug, again lifting her off the ground, attempting to crush her.

She would have loved to have informed him that that was exactly the wrong move for him to make, but she was too busy hacking up her right lung and trying to put her plan into action at the same time.

Suddenly, just as she wanted, the joint between her mechanical left arm and the stump it was attached to came free through her wiggling, and Slim's grip was weakened.

The arm slid down her sleeve slightly and she reached between them for it, pulling it totally free of her jacket with her flesh and blood hand. Just like its big brother in the helicopter, this one twitched even though it was not attached.

Sara shoved the fingers against Slim's jumpsuit and concentrated very hard to make the hand of her prosthesis work at a distance. Finally the fingers responded and pointed, the artificial nails, a purely cosmetic appliance, suddenly serving more than a cosmetic purpose.

They parted the teeth of the jumpsuits zipper and immediately, on pure instinct, Slim was trying to back away from her. His conscious mind told him that he needed to keep his target restrained in his arms as tightly as possible, but millions of years of evolution were screaming a much more important message to him about what her target was.

He let go of Sara and grabbed at the wrist of the disembodied arm, stopping it from going any further, panting as he watched Sara's eye squeezed shut as she coughed. Then that eye flashed open electrically and he froze, an almost psychic message telling his brain he was too late.

There was a sticky, oily squirt and a dark stain spread from inside the crotch of the dark blue jumpsuit; even in the moonlight it was embarrassingly visible.

A moment later Slim collapsed to the tarmac and bellowed out in pain that made even Sara, who lacked any such equipment, wince in sympathy.

If Sara were in any mood to watch, she would have found it comical the way his hips writhed back and forth, the PIM liquid doing its work. The chemical was accelerated by sweat and skin oil, and right now it was trapped against his skin by his underwear and cup.

The thick black liquid, which alternately seared and itched any flesh it touched thanks to the pepper and isocane. Thanks to the menthol that opened wider every pore on his skin, it was now attacking the man's testicles and anus, and his entire lower body was jerking back and forth spasmodically as he screamed in pain and tried to cover himself and tear away clothing and burning flesh at the same time.

Still coughing, Sara retrieved the twitching arm still hanging from his fly, spun it about in her good hand, and promptly brought it down on the back of his neck with a heavy, wet thud. That silenced any further wails of pain, but even in unconsciousness his body still twitched slightly in agony.

Sara gave him a vicious kick in return for his earlier ones, wanting to make sure he wouldn't be getting up to grab her again.

"And stay the fuck down!" she coughed out, gasping as she turned away from him.

She looked at her arm, her artificial one, appraisingly as she held it in her right hand. Reluctantly she tossed it aside. The gears were stripped out of the hand now, and the palm was covered with PIM. If she tried to reattach it, she would only get the stuff on herself and be in for a long night of burning and itching.

Still coughing and breathing hard, Sara made her way back to the helicopter and retrieved the golf-bag with the heavy combat arm in it. As she did, she felt the lump that was her missing inhaler deep in one pocket and made a small prayer of thanks.

Clutching it to her lips and inhaling so deeply she almost gagged herself, she collapsed back into the pilot's seat with relief as she immediately felt her chest ease open and stop spasming painfully.

She watched Slim lay on the tarmac in the moonlight as she let the medicine further do its work in her lungs, and felt grateful that he had apparently come alone. Still, how had he found her? Was he the one in the GJE Explorer this morning? Did he know where she and Bonnie were staying?

"Shit! Bonbon! I'm coming! Hold on!"

Sara didn't have time to let her inhaler work any further. She slung the heavy golf bag over her shoulder and ran as fast as her legs could carry her back to the bike.

Riding with one hand only and the loose weight that was her other arm slinging around on her back was a challenge, but it was nothing compared to attempting to will the very flow of time to stop as she sped towards downtown.

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Author's Notes Additional: OMG, Is Sara afraid for Bonnie? Does she actually care? squee

But seriously… Has Ron really been disowned by the Possibles? Pushing a pregnant woman like Anne to the point of profanity definitely doesn't bode well for our man Ron.


	18. Chapter 18

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 18

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Shego on a plane beats snakes on a plane Any day! If you're opposed to sex in a fic, lesbian or otherwise, you may want to skip over the last bit of the chapter, you'll know where.

Now, on with the Story...

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"Shimara Gostein? Stoppable, do I look Jewish to you?" Shego was eyeing her traveling companions as they grabbed their tickets and moved out of the boarding lounge at Middleton International that afternoon.

"What? We needed a cover story for you at the hospital! It was the first thing I could think of!" Ron looked a little worried as he waved goodbye to Rufus and they moved up the boarding ramp. Rufus waved goodbye and honked his nose with a Kleenex before scurrying up J.'s shoulder to be taken home.

Ron gave Shego a very nervous eye as she scowled at him, and almost passed out when she reached over and ruffled his short hair, chuckling throatily.

"Take it easy doofus. I like it. Pretty fast thinking on your part too, given my Mediterranean "olive" complextion." She smirked and high-fived a surprised but grinning Monique as they moved into the plane proper.

"Oh, but for future reference, I was raised Roman-Catholic. You may be circumcised… but I'm not." Shego's deliciously suggestive smirk left Ron in a confused and disturbed pile next to the aisle seat as she moved past him to her window seat.

"Talk about your catholic school girls in trouble…" Monique chuckled as she too squeezed past Ron to the middle seat. She was surprised how quickly the green skinned merc was growing on her.

Half the time they seemed to be thinking the same thing, and it blew Monique away that Kim could have spent years fighting this woman and never gotten to like her the way that she liked… well, her token black friend. Not that Monique actually thought Kim thought of her that way, it was just fun to challenge the girl's waspy preconceptions every now and then.

Ron finally collected himself enough from the allusions to his birthright and settled into his chair, still blinking from time to time in a disturbed manner.

Monique turned to Shego as the plane started rolling down the taxiway and eyed her curiously. "Okay, so just what is your name then string bean?"

"It's Shego, doy…" She smirked, answering simply as she accepted her headphones from the steward.

Ron, finally seeming to have recovered his tongue, grinned and saw his chance to needle back, "Its Kelly. And her brothers are Dean, Robby, and-"

"Stoppable, say one more word and I'm telling her about the time you cried for your you-know-who when you got your you-know-what stuck in your you-know-where."

Ron clammed up as though there were a physical button on his mouth that someone had pushed to close it. Monique eyed him suspiciously, her lips parting into an eager grin as she turned back to Shego.

"Zipper trouble?"

"Mmmmhmmm…"

"Boy never could keep his pants on. Made me special order in some Velcro cargo's for him last spring."

Ron wished he could crawl into his own belly button.

"Now… I know why Ron and I don't want to go back to Chicago… but what about you?" Shego changed topics as though she too were flipping a simple switch like the imagined one on Ron's mouth.

Monique's broad grin quickly faded and she blinked. "Well, it's just that some awk-wierd stuff happened last time we- Hey!"

Ron's head also snapped back up as he picked of the thread of the conversation, "Yeah, hey! Hey, you were in Chicago… At the bar!"

"The bar… Please… It's called "The House of Blues," you musical luddite." She gave Ron a droll look and shook her head. "And yeah, I was there the night you and la doña fashionita here came in to reminisce."

"Shego…" Monique gave the green woman a troubled look, and Shego's typically curled lip lost its smirk. "Did you… drug us? I mean that night?"

"Yeah… just a quarter of an X in each of your beers… trust me, you two really needed to loosen up. So damned tense I thought one of you was going to break in half."

"A quarter of an… Shego, you gave us Ecstasy?!" a few heads in the near-by seats turned to look at Ron's exclamation. He quickly slunk back further into his seat as Monique also turned disturbed eyes on her.

"Look, it's no big… I barely gave you two enough to feel a little buzzed, not enough to have the full body 'O'."

"Shego, it is a big… Monique and I can't remember anything from that night…"

"God, what a couple of lightweights…" She blew air across her forehead and huffed. Then her grin returned with a slightly more accusatory flare as she pieced together several snippets of conversation she'd overheard in the past few days.

"Or maybe you just don't want to remember… maybe something embarrassingly personal happened between my little doofus and my new personal shopper…" She grinned and reveled in the squirming that both displayed as they tried to look at the floor, or the aisle, or anywhere else but at each other or her.

'ooooh, this is so the drama…'

Shego froze rigid in her seat, the world around her suddenly much less important than the one inside her head. It was not her voice, nor any other living beings, that had spoken.

'god damn it I thought I was rid of you! you got me shot you little twerp!'

'yeah, sorry about that,' The mental image of her kim-conscious looked away for a moment, not sure what to say.

'fine... fine… so, where have you been?'

'where do you think I've been Shego?'

'hiding from my bitchy wrath I imagine. damn it Kim those scars are never going to heal you know. Not even with the damned comet's help.'

'yeah, sorry, but that's not why I wasn't around. you know why I wasn't around Shego. you don't need me anymore.'

'I never did need you damn it.' Shego stamped a petulant foot in her mind and stared at the imaginary kim-conscious that had been her near constant companion for at least a year.

'yes you did, and you know why. just like you seem to know why Ron and Mon can't remember certain things. because you're finally letting someone back-'

Shego gritted her teeth a bit and the fabric of the arm-rest under her fingers began to faintly smoke.

'fine, if I don't fucking need you, pack your things and get out.' Inside the theatre of her mind she pointed towards a large wooden door, interrupting the imaginary Kim's explanation. 'I don't care where you've been or why you think I ever needed a damned imaginary friend in the first place, just get out of my fucking head already!'

Ron and Monique were getting a little bit concerned, even beyond their anger about being manipulated. Shego had suddenly tuned out, and she seemed on the verge of incinerating her arm rest.

'oh, and don't ever kiss me again! I may hit for both teams, but I'll be damned if some teen crimefighter gets to swirl around my head taking liberties!'

Monique reached up and touched her shoulder gently, a little concerned at the way the green woman's lips were faintly moving and her eyes doing the thousand-yard stare, "Shego? Hey Shego? um… Kelly?"

The fire finally left Shego's hands and came back into her eyes in a more metaphoric way. She turned a wan smile to Monique and let go of the now slightly caramelized plastic arm-rest.

"Sorry… PTSD, you know how it is… one bad smell," She eyed Ron playfully, "or one sound… and whoosh its Thorazine time!"

She said it flippantly enough that Ron and Monique almost blew the sudden lapse off as a joke; yet the concern didn't fully leave their eyes as they sat back and wondered about two things now, Chicago of six months ago, and Shego's stability.

Unfortunately the smoke detectors chose that moment to detect the singed fabric under Shego's hands and the entire 777 mini-jumbo-jet had to be evacuated as klaxons whooped and hollered and bright yellow emergency escape ramps automatically deployed.

It took another three hours for them to arrange a flight to Chicago from Middleton International, and that was with the help of Monique's Club Banana Corporate Flyer's card and some pulling of strings by Loaded Technologies.

---

Bonnie was starting to get very fidgety. It had been two hours now since her traveling companion had left. The sun outside was well out of the sky now and the bike still didn't have its headlights fixed. She couldn't believe that she was feeling this concerned over a woman she had just met three weeks ago. Suddenly she couldn't go more than a couple of hours outside the influence of her new friend of the past five days without being completely bored off her ass.

She decided that maybe some air would make her feel better, so she pulled on her slippers and a robe over her expensive new pajamas and headed down the hall to the elevator. A few minutes later she was on the ground floor and stepping out through the revolving doors onto the well lit sidewalk next to the doorman.

Looking up and down the street, Bonnie ignored the fact that this was Chicago at eight p.m. in March, and it was only just above freezing. She had a slightly disturbed feeling that occupied her mind more pressingly, and wanted to assuage it.

Finally, after about ten minutes of peering up and down the street, the cold began to dull her fidgeting concern over Sara and she was about to head back inside and up to their suite. Then she heard the familiar high-pitched rumble of the Triumph. Turning around with a slight smile she saw the deep jade green bike speed to a stop right in front of the hotel, diving forward on its front wheel slightly as an angry red brake light flashed.

"Typical Sara… gotta make an entran- Sara!"

Bonnie gasped in shock as she saw that Sara looked as though she had run afoul of the ghost of Al Capone or something. Under the lights of the hotel's main entrance she could see that both her cheeks were sporting growing purple bruises, and the left sleeve of her leather jacket hung empty at her side.

She'd ridden from the old airfield thirty miles away one handed, beaten, with her lights out?!

"Oh God, Bonbon!"

Despite her injuries, Sara was off the bike and running towards Bonnie like nothing, and not caring that her beloved Speed Triple flopped heavily onto the curb, no kickstand having been deployed in her haste off of it and into Bonnie's arms.

Bonnie threw both arms around her shorter companion and felt one arm wrap about her tightly in return, and suddenly she didn't give a damn about older sisters, or family reputations, or anything other than the little redhead held tightly against her.

"What the hell happened?! I send you out to get rid of that damned suitcase and you get beaten?!"

"Yeah, what can I say… you know trash collection is all mobbed up in this town." Sara tried to break the desperate tension both women felt, but her words were not delivered with her typical whit but half sobbed in relief.

The doorman was looking askance at them, and finally Bonnie's old social senses kicked back in. Icy blue eyes were turned on him like twin laser beams and she tried to put as much haughtiness and contempt into her voice as humanly possible.

"Well, go get the valet you fool. Do you think we're paying twelve-hundred dollars a night for the sheer thrill of an empty purse? Chop Chop… the keys are obviously still in it."

Indeed the bike's engine was still running as it lay indignantly on its side in front of them.

Still holding Sara against her and not caring who saw so long as her wishes were obeyed, she coolly took the claim ticket as the bike was wheeled away.

Sara, apparently realizing that she was the source of something of a scene, and that it was not the kind she liked to create, finally slipped her arm from around Bonnie's back and looked up to the ice princess.

"We need to talk…" there was a concerned, almost fearful look in her green eye as she pulled her leather jacket off and wrapped it around Bonnie in some gallant display that left her in a tee-shirt and no bra, and Bonbon with at least three full layers on.

The movement was an incredible display of dexterity, considering Sara did it one handed and shed the heavy golf-bag on her back at the same time.

"Yeah, about a couple of things I guess," Bonnie replied as she released her partner from her arms and finished pulling the jacket up over her shoulders, looking down at her traveling companion and putting a hand around her shoulders to protect her against the cold.

The two of them went back inside, and suddenly Sara was grateful to be under the protection of the queen bee of Middleton High. A single potent look from Bonnie silenced and turned away any on-lookers as they made their way towards the elevator and then ascended to the thirty-fourth floor. She felt glad that no one was starting at the odd couple thanks to her Bonbon's crackling outward bitchiness.

Once they were back in their suite, Bonnie shed the robe and leather jacket, the combination of which was making her very warm as soon as they had been back inside the hotel's heated lobby.

She poured herself and Sara two large glasses of wine and promptly flopped onto the bed next to her, handing one over. She sipped her wine, and then took Sara's face in her hands, turning her head back and forth, examining the angry purple marks that darkened both cheeks.

She started to reach for the eye-patch which was in the way of her examination, and then stopped, her fingers trembling a bit.

"May I?" she asked softly.

Sara bit her lower lip, winced when this caused her swollen cheeks to stretch, and finally nodded.

Bonnie lifted the eye-patch up, and pulled it and the strap that held it in place away. She used her fingers to soothe Sara's mussed hair back into place where the eye patch's cord had disturbed it, and looked at the patch of slightly thick pink skin that surrounded the empty area of her face.

She was a little surprised actually. She'd been prepared to look into a hideous empty sunken socket or something worse. Aside from the obvious scarring, and the deep purple bruise that was slowly spreading up from beneath, it wasn't that bad at all.

The skin was pulled evenly across where Sara's left eye should be, and there was even a little bit of a carrot-red eyebrow there to lend a normal appearence. Unthinking, Bonnie gently ran the pad of her thumb over the rough, rubbery skin and down over Sara's cheekbone as she held the woman's face in her palms.

"D- don't… that feels… weird." She looked away from Bonnie finally, sighing.

"I- I like touching you Sara."

"No… it's not that, it just feels odd. 'lot of damage there." She looked back to Bonnie, and blinked as what Bonnie had said clicked into place. "Wait… what?"

"Like you said, we need to talk about some things." Bonnie smirked a bit, and didn't look away.

Sara's eye brightened a bit and she chuckled. She was surprised that it was the prim and proper Bonnie Rockwaller admitting this unspoken attraction between them… but then again, once Bonbon saw something she wanted, she just went for it.

"You first though… who did this to you? Why?" Bonnie sat back and took up her wine glass again, sipping it like the prima donna she'd always been and seeming perfectly willing to wait her turn, despite the deep concern in her eyes.

Now that was not very Bonnie-like at all.

Sara, wincing as she leaned forward for her own wine, noticed that her forearm was now different from Popeye's only in that it lacked an anchor tattoo, it had swollen that much from that bastard's kick. She retrieved her glass and sipped the liquid, letting the rich, faintly fruity scent sooth her senses a bit before looking back to Bonnie.

"Well, I guess it's no secret how I make my living, is it?" She saw her honey-toned companion bite back any smart response she might have had, and continued. "And I know you, of all people must know who Global Justice Enforcement is?"

Bonnie gave her a slightly wry look and stuck her tongue out at Sara. "Yeah, met this cute boy form there once… Will something or other… God what a stick in the mud he turned out to be!"

"Yea… Anyways, one of those sunsuvbitches grabbed me at the helicopter tonight… Don't know why he was following me, unless he wanted to ticket me for driving without proper equipment…" Sara gave a very obvious look at her absent prosthesis and smirked, "No headlights you know."

Bonnie scowled, the lines at the corners of her eyes etching a little deeper as the carefully took Sara's wounded arm in her hands, looking at a bruise so deep that she could actually make out the tread of the boot that had inflicted it. "Always thought a bunch of dorks in dark blue and sun-glasses were no good. NO fashion sense at all!"

Sara chuckled softly and winced when Bonnie touched the bruise and traced her fingertips over it. She decided that maybe it was time to drop this discussion.

Bonbon didn't seem to have been in any danger while she was at the air strip, and it had only been the one guy and lord knew he couldn't have followed her back in his condition.

"Well anyway, if you think I'm in bad shape… you should see the other guy. Guess they're expanded from policing terrorism to guarding banks or something." She winced again when her companion reached up and touched her fingertips to her bruised left cheek.

"Yeah, you are in bad shape… But I think the bruises are cute."

"…and you call me the 'fucking insane' girl." She laughed softly at the stricken look in Bonnie's blue eyes.

"Ewww, no not like that!" skin the color of autumn wheat blushed a dusky color and Sara giggled a bit more. "No… I mean… you look kinda tough… Like you took on the world and won. Like you have every time I've seen you. I think that's awsomeness."

"Yeah, and what about you… Miss _'go get the valet you fool,'_" Sara chuckled, trying to parrot the cool in Bonbon's voice from a few minutes ago, "I swear if I wasn't so… Well anyways if I wasn't, I would have shit myself. I wish I'd have seen the look in his eyes. In pajamas and a bath robe no less! I'm the tough one?"

Bonnie grinned and stood up, twirling for appraisal, "Yes… I do cut a mean figure in my Versace' PJ's don't I?"

Sara looked her up and down, green eye glinting, and chuckled as she nodded eagerly, "You certainly put the fear in me!"

"Oh… do I now? And does that mean my earlier threat when you zoned out earned me your ass after all?" Bonnie's face was a mixture of coy confidence and trepidation as two parts of her warred over what she wanted the response to be.

One part; the old Bonnie who lived in mortal fear of Lonnie and Connie, and of the rumors they were capable of spreading even now, hoped the answer was no. The other part; the new Bonnie who rode around in helicopters with a jewel thief, Sara's 'Bonbon' who had fearlessly wrapped her up in her arms earlier and stared into her absent eye without flinching, hoped that it was yes.

Sara decided she was tired of being scared about things for one night. She'd been scared of a faceless white SUV, she'd been scared of getting captured or killed by the dick in blue, and she'd been scared of what she'd find on her return to the hotel. Sara Smith wasn't scared of shit, and it was time to prove just that.

"If you think you want the ass of a one eyed, one armed flying purple-," She laughed as her brain went unbidden to some old pop song in an attempt to hide an irrational rush of nervousness, "erm- a one eyed, one armed master thief who looks like she went three rounds with Mohammad Ali? Then yeah, my ass is yours for the night."

Bonnie's confused smile finally transformed itself into a grin of triumph. She'd never actually been with a woman before, but it wasn't like she was a total newb in bed. This could be yet another fun thing Sara could teach her about. Connie and Lonnie could just be shocked for all she cared at this moment. She had her prize!

Still grinning, this time the trademark bedroom grin that had won her Brick Flagg, she moved and sat down on Sara's lap. Long legs straddled either side of the shorter woman's thighs and she leaned in, pressing her lips up against Sara's. It was a little tentative at first, but Bonnie quickly found that Sara's soft pink lips didn't repulse her any more than her scarred face did. She deepened the embrace, pressing her tongue out experimentally to her partner's lips, urging them to part for her.

Sara whimpered softly for a number of reasons; partly from the sting of pain in her thighs and side let loose as she took up Bonbon's weight after having been beaten, and partly out of the shock that this felt a hell of a lot better than she'd ever even imagined it would, and this was just a kiss.

Her green eye dulled with lust and she opened her mouth softly, albeit a bit less erotically than she hoped, and she felt a warm soft tongue slide past her lips to begin to touch the tip of her own. This pulled a renewed shudder and whimper from her and she reached up, squeezing Bonnie's satin-clad shoulder in her hand and leaning up to the tall darker woman needfully.

Finally, after a long moment of fairly wet kissing and steadily deepening breathing, both women sat back from the embrace and stared at each other hungrily. Bonnie could see Sara's lips plumped with the passion of their heavy kiss and coated in her saliva, and she knew she must look exactly the same to her little… her lover...

She reached out to caress Sara's cheek and leaned in to press their mouths together again, only to feel her partner wince and turn away slightly. She stopped in confusion, and then blushed softly, realizing that in all her sudden passion that she'd forgotten Sara's face looked like hamburger. She'd actually forgotten everything except what she wanted for the rest of the night, what she felt burning in her belly. A deep and slightly scary part of her didn't care that the little redhead was bloody and bruised, or even that she was a woman; just that she was there with Bonnie.

"I'm sorry! I'll try not to hurt you more Sara! It's just been a really long time and well, I never had sex with someone who looked like they'd gone the full fifteen with Dragon Douglas." She withdrew her palm from the bruised cheek, and after a moment rested it on Sara's small chest, careful not to put any weight on her until she was sure she wasn't inflicting more pain.

Sara knew Bonbon could feel her heart racing as she felt an incredibly warm palm resting between her small breasts through the thin cotton shirt. She suddenly felt like she didn't want Bonnie to know she was about to take Sara and her body a place that neither had been before. She slid her hand down Bonnie's shoulder and slowly caressed the smooth surface of her breast through the tops of her cinnamon Pajamas.

"Yeah… for me too. Don't worry about hurting me, nothing else we do tonight is going to hurt I think."

She smiled her own bedroom smile up at her tall caramel-skinned companion and slowly caressed the swell she felt beneath her palm. No, Bonnie was great, and she knew the rest of the night with her night was going to be great; but she didn't think her Bonbon was ready to find out she was taking someone's cherry.

Maybe in the morning, when she'd had a little time to recover from the beating that she'd taken and could think clearly.

Her internal debate about telling Bonnie something was suddenly and permanently shut off when she felt her Bonbon's warm hand slide over to one side and begin to caress her own breast in the way she was squeezing the taller woman's.

Most conscious thought followed the internal debate out the door a moment later when Bonnie used her free hand to open her pajama top and Sara felt flesh touch flesh in a way she'd barely even imagined before.

Her last thought that could qualify as a conscious one was how unbelievably soft and warm Bonnie's breast felt beneath her palm and how it seemed to fit perfectly there. That thought disappeared when Bonbon slid fully into her lap and their hips pressed together, as the tall caramel waitress leaned in and gave the short ivory-skinned thief a much more passionate kiss.

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Author's Notes Additional:


	19. Chapter 19

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 19

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Rah! Rah! The gangs all here!

Now, on with the Story...

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Monique, Ron, and Shego, having left Middleton city limits at three in the afternoon pacific coast time to catch a flight; finally left O'Hare airport property at three-thirty in the a.m., just in time to grab an early copy of the Sun Times on their way out to search for a motel room or three.

"I still say we should have taken my jet, would have been a hell of a lot faster than commercial…"

"Um, two problems with that Shego," Ron was sounding particularly whiney at the early hour, having not been able to geta Kosher meal on their second flight, and not having found any Bueno Naco kiosks at either Middleton International or O'Hare.

"One… fuel for an F/A 27 Thundercat is way expensive… Two, IT'S A ONE SEATER!"

"So, you could have ridden in the missile bays. Trust me; you get a great view when the bay doors open." Shego tried to smirk Ron out of existence, but at this point all 'Shimara Gostein' wanted was a hot shower and a few hours of shut eye.

"Okay, enough you two… Let's just find a cot and grab twenty winks." Monique was also looking pretty haggard after a trans-continental flight, even if it had been first class. She scrubbed fingers through slightly flattened hair left by an abortive nap attempt and paid her seventy-five cents for a copy of the Tribune as well.

"Aw, come on Mon, can't we grab the full fourty? I'm tired, and my feet hurt!"

"Gotta say, I'm with gifilte fish boy on this one, Mochachino. If I don't get my beauty rest, the courts have said I can't be held legally responsible for my actions."

Monique wasn't listening to them as she unfolded the cover page of the Tribune and waited for their prearranged taxi to slide into view. She blinked a bit and rubbed at her eyes, trying to clear them from the airport and plane's dry cabin air.

"Wait a minute…" Shego snatched another section away from Monique, "You gotta be kidding me. Bulls beat the spread?! Oh damn it! Now Big Tony's going to be after me for another thirteen grand!"

"We can worry about that later," Monique was trying to hold the thick newspaper in one hand and drag out her kimmunicator from her purse with the other. Finally, the modified Ferrari-red version of smart phone tech slide into view and she flicked a few buttons.

A face with stylish three-day-beard-stubble appeared on the screen a moment later, it being one-thirty-seven am back in Middleton. A moment later, the face was joined by a second nearly identical one lacking the carefully maintained 'rugged look.'

"Hey Monique…" yawn.

"…nice hair. What's up?" yawn.

When the twin's Possible were tired, they apparently dropped back into their old habit of finishing each other's sentences. It wasn't something Monique had heard them do in a while.

"Hey guys... need some dirt. What can you tell me about Johnsonville Airstrip just outside Chicago?"

"Sure,"

"Just a sec, we'll see…"

"…what we can get." Another yawn from the cleaner shaven of the two faces.

Ron peeked over Monique's shoulder at the com' and watched the twins go to work. "God, they look thrashed."

"Oh doy doofus, you think? I bet they were up till midnight; listening to mommy tell them not to associate with the evil, lying, manipulative Ron Stoppable."

Shego's barb hit a little close to the mark, and all three winced at the memory of Mrs. P. exiling them from the house the previous day.

"Speaking of that," the stubble-clad J's face returned to the screen, "You know, you could have told us that you knew what happened to Kim's marker."

"Yeah, you think mom was mad? You should have seen dad; total orbital deployment! Defcon 1 situation!" T continued a moment later as his baby-face joined J's on the kimmunicator.

"Glad I missed out on that. Sorry we put you guys through this, but hopefully we'll have enough evidence with us when we get home to get back in everyone's good graces." Monique again tried unsuccessfully to un-flatten her hair as she spoke.

"Okay, got something. Johnsonville Airstrip was built during WWII to help deliver war-goods to military officials and to store tanks and jeeps built by local manufacturers." T's face took over most of the screen as he began giving his report. "It was abandoned in place in 1967, and has never been redeveloped owing to the cost of cleaning up old munitions and soil polluted by spilled aviation fuel."

"It's basically just a long strip of pavement in a field on the outskirts of Chi-town. Oh Wait, here's something just now in the RSS feed from Sun Times…" J paused and read the screen, and then looked back out of the kim'com at Monique, "Yeah, see why you called this late. The 'disused' airstirp had an expensive private BellJet 311bc explode last night around nine-thirty. It had missiles and machine guns on it according to 'unnamed sources' with the Chicago Fire Marshall's office."

Shego scowled, grabbing the paper from Monique's hands and turning towards Ron with it as she read, "That's Senior Senior's copter! The one that got ripped off at Christmas when that damned bitch Wraith…"

"Beat the tar out of you?" Ron smirked a bit and peered over her shoulder at the cover story that they now realized showed a smoldering helicopter surrounded by fire-trucks.

Shego eyed Ron wearily, her brown eyes leaving the newsprint for a moment. "How do you know about that, Doofus?"

"He called Wade a few days after, to have him and Vivian analyze some security footage. It's how Wade found out about you and the Green Wraith, and her battle-suit." Ron responded when he realized that Shego actually expected a response.

'and about Monique and hers; and how she was risking her neck on this chase without us knowing.' He added with his inner voice as he studied the picture on the front page of both papers now.

His inner voice whispered something else in his ear a moment later. "Hey, 'nique, why did you think this exploding helicopter was important anyways? Not like it's stamped in giant neon letters 'The Green Wraith'."

"Woman's Intuition? Come on Ron… heavily armed black helicopter on an abandoned air strip? Even if it wasn't tied up with GJE or the Wraith, it's right up _our_ alley."

"Ooh, and the Brown Spider shoots and scores!"

Monique gave Shego a rather disturbed look. "Uh-uh girlfriend… no brown spider… not now, not ever."

"Chocolate Ninja then?" Shego smirked amicably.

"That'll do string bean."

"I think I preferred Glowstick actually. It's got the cool rave connotation going for it." Shego winked a bit and both women laughed.

"And I liked Mochachino… though la doña fashionita is cute too. Sounds like I'm an exotic heiress…"

Ron looked back and forth between the jade woman and the black girl, thoroughly confused and a bit disturbed. How had they managed to bond like this in five days time? Maybe he did need the full forty winks, or maybe _they_ needed it even more than he did.

He suddenly wished Rufus was here… He was feeling very alone traveling in the company of two super heroines, like he was along for comic relief rather than as a partner in crime-fighting and taking down whichever party had taken out Kim and him eighteen months ago. Traveling with Kim was never like this, even the last few times. They were always a team, right from the very start in Middleton the week before 6th grade started.

All at once Ron found the rush of this fresh Wraith and GJ lead wearing off and the weight of five days of shootouts, hospital visits, and family quarrels wearing down on him; and his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of their luggage.

Shego was still chuckling a bit and scanning the news paper headline when she looked over at Ron and noticed the lack of focus in his eyes, and the big dark bags beneath them. She pulled a green compact out of her own bag after a moment of thought, and was shocked to see dark green circles under her own eyes that looked nearly as bad as his.

On closer examination Monique bore them too, though the blessing of her rich skin and expensive makeup hid the exhaustion better. Mercenary training kicked in and reminded her that a tired fighter was a dead fighter, and that you grabbed sleep when you could.

Besides, what were they going to do at nearly four a.m. that couldn't wait till eight or nine and the benefit of daylight?

"Okay Mochachino, doofus, I think we need to get some rest…" Hoisting up her duffel full of cat-suits and boots, Shego hailed a cab, tired of waiting on theirs to show. "None of us has slept more than a few hours in the last seventy-two, and we're getting silly with it."

Monique was about to protest when she realized that she'd just been giggling with the woman who she'd thought until recently had blown up her two best friends. "Yeah, maybe so… But not too long, I want to get both the wraith and this Dr. Norm before they can scurry back under whatever rock they were hiding beneath."

"Agreed. Stoppable, you got the motel's address? …Ron?" She leaned over and lightly rapped on his skull with her knuckles, noting he was still tuned out, "Hello, Earth to Doofus!"

"Hey, yeah, I'm here! Enough with the Doofus stuff already, I'm not a little kid anymore!" Ron snorted and pulled out the notebook that indeed had the address of the Super Seven they had arranged rooms at.

The cab Shego had beckoned pulled in front of them and Ron began loading up the trunk as Monique leaned over to whisper to Shego, "Why do you keep calling him that? It's not cool or cute or anything. Even Kim earned a better set of nicknames, and she beat the crap out of you once a week for four years."

Shego blinked a bit. Why _did_ she call Ron a Doofus when he was obviously capable and able in the hero'ing game… Why did she call anyone anything? Dementor didn't get a cute name, nor did Electronique. So why did Kim, Ron, Monique, Drakken, even Wade get noms d'compagnie?

She rubbed her nose and realized she was much more tired than had she thought. If she kept thinking like this a certain red-headed conscious would come by and pester her about the answer. She slid into the front passenger seat of the yellow cab and grabbed the note book.

"Super Seven of Aurora… and don't spare the ponies. The black girl with the purse will cover any tickets, so let's get going."

Monique was about to object to being called 'the black girl with the purse,' but realized that she just wanted to flop into a bed, any bed, even if it was a rock hard economy motel bed. "Yeah, you're covered, just go."

As the first taxi pulled away into the early morning darkness outside O'Hare, a white Franzz Explorer disguised as a large taxi pulled in behind it. The woman behind the wheel, her half-blonde, half-black hair hidden under a cap, tried to suppress the relieved sigh escaping her lips, with little success. She'd managed to stall long enough for Dr. Norm's assignment for her to fail.

Abbey looked at the crudely drawn time-table on the clipboard that sat beside her and thanked whatever powers there were that she would not have to gas the three heroes and drive them back to the hideout. Then she sat back and wondered where the men Will had tailing her were at. They were either _very_ good at the art of camouflage, or something more sinister was afoot than magically appearing clipboards.

---

A few miles away, a few hours later, a bronze skinned woman stirred in a bed far more comfortable than anything Ron, Shego, and Monique had to look forward to. The differences between the Super Seven and the Hyatt Regency, and a couple hundred dollars per head per night were amazing.

Bonnie rolled over and smiled lazily, feeling the sort of warm numbness throughout her body that only came from a deep and dreamless slumber. She felt the warmth spread and concentrate as a dark blush in her cheeks when she moved again, and realized the physical evidence of what had brought about her deep sleep still clung to her.

'need a shower,' she thought just a bit self-consciously to herself as she opened her eyes against the intruding sunlight, dimmed though it was by heavy curtains.

Her blush faded just a bit though, when she felt one long slender arm fall on the empty side of her bed where her partner in crime, and now a few other things, should have lain. "Sara?"

Drawing the rich Egyptian cotton sheets up around herself, she sat up in bed and looked around, listening carefully in the mid-morning silence and examining what she could see from their bed. All she could hear was the slight drafty sounds of the furnace heating their suite, and a few dull noises outside the well insulated walls of their quarters. It was suddenly a very, very empty soundscape.

In that silent moment, Bonnie knew she was screwed. Not in the very enjoyable literal way that the intimate scents clinging to her body reminded her of now and again; no, she was screwed in a much more meaningful and scary way. She realized somewhere inside that what had happened several times last night had not just been sex. And that meant she was screwed.

She could have written off, in her selfish mind, the first tender time, as being nervous and not being quite sure of the differences between being with a man and with a woman; or because of Sara's injuries and her occasional whimpers from a misplaced hand or kiss in a wounded spot. But the second, and then the third and fourth times had still been the same.

Yes, they had gotten progressively more and more passionate, ending finally in both falling into a deep slumber still entangled with each other, but they weren't the hungry and wild act that part of her had expected from her little redheaded thief. Now, where was her thief? Why had she not woken up to the sleeping face that was suddenly haunting her? "Sara?"

Again, the stillness of the room was almost sterile, and fairly frightening now with her growing internal questions. "All right Rockwaller… take it easy. It's not like she'd just dump you here after dragging you halfway around the world… would she?"

Taking a deep breath, Bonnie started to climb out of bed. She pulled on a robe out of some sense of modesty, despite being alone in the suite with the curtains fully drawn.

She made her way through the small partition to the living area of the suite, and saw that hideous green and black 'Poit' brand duffel sitting in the corner near the door. Her mind latched onto it and the way it sagged heavily, like a life preserver to her drowning thoughts. Sara wouldn't have _left _left without that thing…

She sighed with a little relief, and rubbed her face in the palm of her hand, ashamed for having felt like such a spurned little girl. A moment later, when her mind had settled away from panicky thoughts and begun to work a bit more naturally; she laughed, because she remembered the things the hand now caressing the lines in her forehead had done, and the very faint odour of sex still upon it.

"Yeah… I'll definitely feel better after a shower. Guess it's too late for the breakfast buffet though." She eyed the clock, and again wondered about her partner's whereabouts. "That little tramp better not have gone down to eat without me!"

She giggled a bit despite the harshness of her words and made her way to the suite's generous bathroom. She realized as she did, all the double entendre's in her last statement; and how they meant that she was going to have to learn an entirely new way of speaking if traveling around with the little emerald-eyed fox was turning into what it seemed to be.

She didn't have much time more to consider this before arriving in the bathroom, and looking up at the large vanity, which had something now written on it.

"_Bonbon,_

_Coffee here blows. Went out to get the good stuff._

_Back Soon_

_Sara"_

It was signed with a little one armed stick figure that made her giggle again, and she covered her face self-consciously against the reflection in the mirror; remembering timidly asking if it was all right to touch her lover there last night. Finally she allowed herself to look back to the mirror, there was more written there.

"_P.S._

_Sorry about the lipstick, _

_I'll pick you up some new on the way back."_

was written in slightly smaller letters.

Bonnie blinked a bit, and her slightly tired brain took a second to register that this note, cute though it was, was written on the mirror in her favorite shade of Cherry Mocha Divinity. "oh… you insane little bitch, you're ass is so mine when you get back!"

Still chuckling despite the irritation at her lipstick's destruction, Bonnie moved to turn on the shower. She allowed herself to ponder what Sara really was to her as she shed the robe and luxuriated in stretching her long lean body in the growing steam. She had a little while to herself, and this was a pretty major 'sitch.

Sara was definitely more than a traveling buddy or a sex buddy, it was now clear to her. What more that was, and what it meant to the youngest Rockwaller daughter, wasn't so clear.

She tested herself by remembering things from her past, past relationships. She brought before her mind's eye a very clear mental image of Josh Mankey in his swim team Speedos. A tiny part of her was relieved to find she still felt a tingle at that. "Okay… so not a dyke… What am I then?"

She thought a bit more intently, and remembered the image of Sara on that morning they had escaped London, and how it felt to have the little woman lift her up strongly from beneath and help her into the helicopter. Another tingle, but not from the same spot.

Further mental examinations were interrupted by a knock at the door. She cursed the timing of the interruption and moved to close the bathroom door, calling out around it, "Yeah, fine! You can make the bed and all, but I'm, in the shower, so be quick about it!"

Bonnie felt a little relieved that, whoever she was becoming, that person could still order the staff around. As she clicked the bathroom door closed, she heard the front door open and again grumbled at the invasion of her privacy. She stepped into the shower stall and closed the curtain, trying to hum the latest Britina as she heard the maid banging about out in the suite-proper.

All the steam of her hot shower caused Bonnie to be totally unaware of the smoke rolling out of a small hose that which had been slipped under the bathroom door and which started to hiss quietly. By the time she became aware that something was wrong, she was too numb to be much disturbed by the way her forehead fell forward and cracked against the tile of the shower enclosure.

---

Ron sat on his bed in the Super Seven and rubbed his eyes roughly with his thumb and forefinger. He'd already watched the WGN morning news for any info on the copter, which was further evidence that he had yet to sleep. He knew he wasn't going to be any use to Monique though, if he didn't get some sleep soon.

He was so tired that he had actually considered ordering some… ack… Taco Bonita. Ordering cheap Bueno Nacho rip-off food was a sure sign of sleep-deprived insanity if ever there was one. So Ron sat back a bit more on his bed and did something he hadn't attempted in years… not since his days at Yommanoucchi Ninja Academy.

He folded one leg over the other lotus style, clasped his hands in his lap, and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply and slowly, he attempted to find his center, whatever that was. He tried emptying his mind, but that just ended up with another image of a cheese-dripping quesa-lada fluttering through his brain.

'man, rufus is so much better at this than me!' he whined to himself and tried again, deciding to focus instead on one of the snow-covered valleys near the clandestine ninja school.

Finally he began to feel his heart-rate slow, and he felt the sensations of the outside world fall away. He could feel his own breath, his own pulse, even the way the hair on his head moved faintly in the inadequate furnace of the cheap motel.

He was surprised, as he let his mind flow outward slowly, that he could also sense two other heartbeats nearby. He realized after a moment, that these were Shego and Monique, and that they were slow, so the women must be asleep.

He felt the existence of others in the motel too, but less strongly. Still picturing the snowy valleys of Mount Fujuashahami, Ron allowed his mind to expand and quiet still further, until all of the heartbeats had become one dull background noise of hundreds of thousands of individual pulses. Now Ron was no longer in the silent snowy Japenese valley, but flying over it, and then across the ocean.

He flew, in his mind's eye, across the coast of California, and into the still sleeping suburbs of Middleton and Upperton. and felt four heartbeats from the new possible house, three adults and one tiny one. A dull pain crossed his placid face as he remembered he was no longer welcome here, and so he moved on.

Still hovering, Ron's astral form crossed over the Rockies, and occasionally he would hear one hearbeat or another come through more strongly, as his metaphysical self came near people he knew for one reason or another. There was his old buddy Felix, now working at the Hospital of the Peaks rehab center and helping spinal cord injury patients. Then the annoying Dr Bortel, somewhere in South Dakota. For some reason, he was surrounded by a lot of cows.

Finally Ron's astral form began approaching his physical one there in Chicago. As he moved though, flying over imagined sky scrapers and past the occasional pigeon, he was shocked by one incredibly strong presence. It was a heart strong as any he had ever known in his short life, and he felt he needed to go to it for some reason.

He approached, in this spiritual realm, a tall hotel in downtown, and found himself at the window of the thirty-second floor. The presence was here alright, the slow heart rate like the beat of a huge bass drum right next to his ear. He pressed his face through the virtual window and slowly melted through it into a hotel suite.

'Bonnie? No way, why the hell would I be drawn to her?' Ron's astral form frowned and he asked himself why Bonnie's essence would be calling at his own as if he knew her intimately. In his serene state he ignored lesser questions of why Bonnie was here in Chicago, why she was laying naked in bed at seven a.m., and why she seemed to be smiling. Then she rolled over; and another woman, laying next to her in bed, sat bolt upright in shock and staring straight at him as though he were a tangible intruder in their bedroom.

The confused and utterly frightened look in a single piercing green eye blew Ron out of the hotel room window, across thirty miles of Chicago suburb, and back into his body with such force that he flipped off of the bed, rolled across the floor, and came to rest upside down against the wall, where the TV promptly fell off its stand and landed on him.

"ooooowwie!"

The very real pain of the little TV landing on his unprepared body obliterated the shock and spiritual confusion that had sent him rocketing back here.

---

Sara was feeling much better now that she had a vintodo grande double dark caramel mocha full-caf latte warming her belly. Some ghoulish image of a blue-faced man with yellow hair had awoken her out of a dead sleep this morning, and instantly evaporated any of the afterglow she'd been looking forward to laying next to Bonnie.

She tried not to think about the shock and how it had made her fairly queasy, sitting there next to Bonbon in the early morning. Well, early to a thief who lived by the night anyways. The swill they tried to pass off on her as Javanese Café a few minutes later in the hotel's restaurant hadn't helped her mood any either.

She'd 'borrowed' some of Bonbon's lipstick and left her a note to say where she was headed and then grabbed her keys and jacket, retrieved the 'rumph from the garage, and ventured out in search of decent caffeine.

Oh… her poor ride. Erm, her _other_ poor ride, she suddenly chastised herself, remembering the news report of the morning. The copter she was sure she would miss, but it wasn't truly hers, just something fun she had stolen. The bike was hers and hers alone, purchased and modified with her funds, her constant companion.

The Speed Triple was very much worse for the wear. Not only were both of the twin headlights shot out from a single fifty caliber handgun bullet, but now the left side was badly scratched where she'd allowed it to fall over in her rush last night to get home.

'home.' Why had she chosen that word, she suddenly wondered? It was a damned hotel she'd been at for two nights. She'd stayed at least a dozen places far nicer in the last six months, and none of them was home.

She pushed away the response that came to her mind's eye a moment later as silly and sentimental. Must be the lack of good coffee in this town. She'd had to ride for nearly an hour to find any place that her trained nose told her was worth the effort.

Now she was about to straddle her bike again, with a full belly, and a small plastic sack with a sixty dollar vial of lipstick in her pocket, when her eye latched onto a red minivan that rolled by. The ghost of a face, slightly green in color and surrounded with thick black hair, sitting in the front passenger seat made her curse out loud in three languages.

"How the fuck did she find me?!" This time Bonbon and she really _did_ have to leave. Shego wouldn't be put off as easily as some international cop would.

She abandoned the other cup of coffee she'd been intending to bring home… there was that word again… home to Bonbon, as impractical to carry when she only had one hand to begin with and that was needed to steer. Sara growled hotly, thumbed the electronic starter on the Triple, and peeled out with all possible power from the three cylinders of the engine.

---

Meanwhile, in the rented red minivan, Shego suddenly turned at the sound of a bike hauling ass and grinned.

"That's it, ride it girl!" She congratulated whoever the rider was as they retreated, one handed no less, down the street away from the three heroes who were out hunting breakfast.

Ron, for his part, was far too distracted trying to get Monique to interpret his dream, or vision, or whatever it was, to notice the face of his visionary girl.

Monique, in turn, was too busy trying to navigate city traffic and find a parking garage, to pay much attention to Ron's exhausted ramblings.

"…seriously weirded me out Mon. The way she just stared at me! And who knew Bonnie was gay? Well you know I kinda always suspected but…"

"Ron, are you sure this wasn't just a bad chimerito?" Monique finally found a parking garage that didn't have its 'full' light lit up and pulled in, taking her ticket. "You've slept the least of any of us you know, and I don't think science fully understands the effect those things have on the body."

Shego's attention was finally pulled back into the car when the biker had disappeared around a corner. "Yeah Stoppable… I don't know about before I woke up, but you didn't sleep much afterwards…"

Ron could see his argument was lost. He couldn't remember much from the meditation anyways, just feelings more than actual sights. He leaned back as Monique drove the minivan up flight after flight of the parking structure, trying to regroup his thoughts.

"Monique, stop the car!"

"Wha-? We're half way up a parking ramp."

"Stop the fucki- oh never mind!" Shego opened the passenger door and leapt out, somehow having disabled the auto-lock that kept it shut and locked when the van was in gear.

Now Monique did stop, causing Ron and her to jerk forwards and back rhythmically. Ron slide aside the sliding door and popped out, looking for Shego, who'd he'd last seen leaping over the edge of the ramp and down to a lower level.

It didn't take him long to locate her; the flashes of green light from one level below sort of pointed her out. When he'd run down and around the incline between parking levels, he found her taking her frustrations out on one of those big SUV taxis. "Whoa! Bad fare in the past?"

"Global Justice Assholes! I swear if I ever get my hands on another one of you-," Shego was really going to town, and despite her lack of gloves or cat-suit she was shredding the sides of the SUV like paper. Ron was a little weary of interrupting her, but then the radiator of the Explorer exploded beneath the hood in a rush of plasma-induced steam. The pinging and the shriek of metal being torn echoed painfully in the concrete parking structure about them.

"Whoa Whoa Whoa! Take it easy Glowstick! It's just a taxi cab!" This was Monique, who jogged up behind him and was watching Shego have a catharsis with the vehicle.

"No... It's not! It's a fucking bug on wheels!" Shego had the bumper in both hands now, and with a grunt and a flare of green energy, she'd ripped it free of the front of the Explorer. "See?!"

She held it up for inspection, but Ron and Monique just looked at each other confusedly.

"Um yeah… and I'm the one who's sleep deprived…" Ron finally looked at Shego as if she was a few slices short of a pizza.

"ON the plate, doofus! See!" Shego grunted and practically thrust the bumper at Ron.

He looked at the plate, a standard Illinois plate, and shrugged. Then something deep in his brain clicked into place. In the lower right corner, completely unobtrusive, were the letters GJE stamped in blue.

"Oh…" Ron finally got it, and then took the bumper from her, noticing it was lighter than it looked. Obviously she'd only gotten the plastic cover, not the whole structure; still, it was no light thing, and he grunted before tossing it aside heavily.

"Problem is," Monique intoned as she heard a golf-cart whirring its way up from below, an orange service light flashing its presence ahead of it, "now we can't stay and check it out, Miss Impulsive!"

She jogged back up the ramp, looking back every now and then to make sure Shego and Ron were following, and jumped back into the driver's seat. Two more door slams followed and Monique tried to get the Minivan back out without _looking_ like she was trying to escape.

Seeming to have succeeded, she drove the rented minivan back out onto the street as a firetruck came screeching up from the other direction and into the parking-ramp's entrance. Monique turned around from the driver's seat and stared.

"Did you forget to take your happy pills today Miss Thang?"

Shego looked about ready to retort, until she glanced down at her lap and twiddled her fingers. Ron could only think of one other time Shego had been so chastened, and that was under the affect of an attitudinator.

"Yeah, sorry… Guess I got a little carried away. Won't happen again. It's just… Grrrr, these new style Global Justice lackeys… Grrrrrr!"

Ron could see that as much as he'd been hating Shego for whatever she had done on the tower, Shego was hating the men in blue even more so. Ron had let of his anger towards the green thief finally in the past few days, but he realized his anger was faceless. He'd known Shego had nothing to do with the actual explosion for the better part of two years, so the anger was just directed at a handy target; the woman who had survived the blast when Kim didn't.

Shego's anger was much more specific he realized, because she seemed to both know and have some kind of evidence that Global Justice Enforcement had been involved in the Sears Tower Detonation. That was a kind of animosity was much harder to let go of; and if anyone could hold a grudge, it was the woman who didn't speak to her family for a nearly decade after dropping out of the hero'ing game.

Finally Ron took a deep breath and said something he didn't think would ever pass his lips, even back during the freaky-weirdly days of Miss Kelly Go the substitute teacher. He comforted the green merc. "It's okay Shego… I understand. Just, take it easy okay?"

Monique gritted her teeth and bit back a few choice remarks along the same lines as 'happy pills' and continued on down the street. She could seriously use some retail therapy right now, but they didn't have the time. She pulled into traffic once the second fire/rescue vehicle had slid passed and headed for their appointment with an air-strip south of town.

---

"What do you mean she found the Explorer!? It's mathematically impossible that she could even know we have the girl yet! Let alone that she could have stumbled upon it in a city this large, especially after we disguised it!"

"Sorry Dr Norm, sir… But yeah, it's slashed to hell. There's plasma scorching everywhere. We'll have to requisition a new one." the voice of Slim said over the phone.

Norm held his cell phone away from his ear and tried to breath. Like the rest of his ensemble, the phone was a cacophony of different colors and patterns; the front cover was black with metallic gold accents, while the back side was a jade green. Ironic considering the current topic of conversation.

He squeezed the mismatched phone in his fingers tightly and finally put it back to his ear as he worked out some probabilities on a note pad stuck to the filing cabinet in front of him. "It is only slightly less likely that Shego and Monique have discovered out graph-work this quickly. They'd have no way of knowing we're here, nor our involvement."

"Want me to find out Doctor?" It was Abbey, who'd been listening in while she sat next to the still unconscious Bonnie, who in turn was now tied to a bed in their motel-room turned lair.

She couldn't call it a base of operations, because that's what the good guys called things. No, Abbey was sure that Uncle Norm was now thoroughly in the camp of the bad guys, so this must be a lair. When she'd failed to catch Shego, Monique, and the man they were with at the airport, thankfully for her soul's sake; Uncle Norm had gone into a rage. He'd practically made Slim take her at gunpoint to the hotel they'd found to capture the Green Wraith.

He wasn't too happy when they came back with a woman who didn't fit the physical parameters of the Green Wraith, mainly because she was four inches too tall. He'd been into a sputtering raging fury, wanting to know who this was, why she was, beyond all reason, traveling with someone who patterned themselves on the lone-wolf Shego.

Abbey was worried that if she failed him again, on purpose or otherwise, that he'd become suspicious and order her into the same kind of situation that had gotten poor Stout done in.

"Seriously, Uncle, I'll go find out." Abbey got up and headed to the door of the motel room before Dr. Norm could even object, the phone still held to his ear.

He manifested another one of those clipboards with his free hand and began writing instructions for her on it as he talked. Abbey was a bit disturbed by this. Not merely by the spontaneous generation of office supplies, but by the fact that his normally perfect handwriting was starting to degenerate. She wearily took the clipboard from him and read it. She pretended to understand half of what was written there and headed out the door.

As Abbey went out to try desperately to make contact with the under-cover men that Will was to have following her, Norm turned his attention to the woman on the bed that had yet to come around.

"Hmmmmm, perhaps I can turn this to our statistical advantage. If Shego is here, and the Wraith is here, and they have brought that boy with them, Monique and Shego…" he picked up the clip board he had been working on and grinned malevolently, one brown eye and one green eye flashing, and he licked suddenly moist lips.

"Yes… Slim… Do we not still have a copy of Drakken's Trans-vortex Particle Recombinator? Yes? Excellent. Very well then. Prepare the Helicopter." By now all the licking of his lips was causing him faintly to drool as he considered the possibility of a perfect circle of continuity.

"We're going back to the Sears Tower Slim, and this time We'll make sure that the boy and Shego don't manage to crawl their way down." Norm's eyes flashed viciously as spittle flew from his lips, "Director Du will be so very happy when this allows him to clamp down further on global security! And I think we have an excellent enticement to ensure that the Green Wraith is there as well!"

Dr Al Norm was practically giggling as he disconnected the call. It was a sad, small giggle that portended madness, even if mental instability didn't figure into his calculations.


	20. Chapter 20

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 20

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. ( It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Rah! Rah! The gangs all here!

Now, on with the Story...

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"What do you mean they found the Explorer?!" Will Du stared incredulously at the phone in his hand, "Is Abbigail all right? Did Shego injur her?"

"No Sir, I'm sorry to report that Miss Norm was not at the scene, we have not been able to track her since Agent Jenkins broke contact." came the reply from the earpiece.

"I see. Any reports on him? He can't just have vanished off the face of the earth with several hundred-thousand dollars worth of surveillance equipment. I don't care how well Dr Norm has this planned… calculated. He can't know we're on to him already!"

Will looked from his phone handset up to the walls of his office for some kind of sign. There, the pictures of the three previous directors of Global Justice Enforcement stared placidly back at him. Even Betty Director's confident stare and the dates of her recent leadership gave him no help. He wondered if cancer played by any of Norm's calculations, or if it was just an ill-spirited little disease that wanted to see him thrust into this awkward position. At least all fronts on the Sheldon Director scene had been quiet recently.

"Sir? What are your orders? Agent Slim was seen collecting the wreckage of the Explorer, and your orders are not to interfere with any of their requisitions and requests until we have hard evidence. Do you want me to over-ride him and get the SUV back?"

The voice asking for instructions snapped Director Du back from his revelry, and he straightened himself up. He'd allowed himself to be baited and cajoled into this situation; he wasn't going to allow pictures and memories of dead leaders to do the same. Relying too much on the decisions of another had gotten him into this, it wasn't going to get him back out, he realized.

"No… No let's not tip our hand just yet. Concentrate on Browne and Stoppable and Shego for now. They should lead us to Sara Smith or the Norms within the day. And for god sakes be careful if you run into the Green Wraith. I don't want to be cleaning up a nuclear detonation just because someone decided to tazer that uranium-powered arm of hers. Our sources in the red mafia say she just got it recharged thanks to that blasted iceman."

There was a heavy silence on the other end as Susan Justice heard the rumors about a walking fission reactor confirmed. "And we let her have that technology from the various labratories why, sir?"

"Because at the time we had no idea she was going to decide to be the next Shego… You can thank Dr Al Norm for that one as well Agent Justice. Oh, and be on the lookout. The reports from our fellows in the lab say that Mr. Loade has sent some new device to Monique Browne. Some sort of nano-disruptor according to the post-master general who examined it for us."

"Sounds like Team Possible is going to take down the Wraith for us, sir. If her suit is based off of the one Kim Possible used when she saved my but in San Francisco, that is."

"Yes, I believe so. Still, I want our team ready to go when they do. Unique Possibilities and Team Possible are not deputized agents, and I don't want an American law enforcement agent trying to take her or dismantle that blasted arm of hers before we can secure the scene. Get a strike team in the air as soon as we have her location."

"Of course sir. What about Miss Browne and Mr Stoppable? Traveling with and hiding Shego in Middleton makes them accomplices given her few remaining warrants."

"Yes… I thought of that Agent Justice." Director Du frowned again in consternation at the phone. Those two had been through enough as it was, and he didn't want to inflict the indignity of an arrest on them if he could avoid it. Still, aiding and abetting Shego, who may very well have murdered Agent Stout, left him with very few alternatives.

"If they are at the scene when we get Wraith we can ignore them, especially if they and Shego have parted ways. Most of Shego's outstanding's and priors have been attributed to Sara Smith anyway. However, if they lead us to Norm, and Shego decides to do to him what she did to Stout and Sparks, we'll have to arrest them. Those are my orders."

"How did the Wraith accomplish that anyway sir? Getting fifteen of Shego's warrants and wanted files rassigned to her?" Susan seem a little concerned that it was so easy to change records like that, and she wanted her director to make that problem go away before it could happen again.

"Unfortunately she knew the right palms to grease, Agent Justice. And she happens to be very good at imitating our green-skinned friend, right down to her smash-and-grab fighting style. Since GJE is the only organization that knows Smith is the Wraith, and we can't seem to get any photo's of her in the costume, there's not much we can do to change the situation until we bring her in."

"Least Slim took out her copter for us," Justice went on, trying to milk her time with Director Du for all it was worth before she had to go back to the stake-out room and its stale doughnuts, "Last thing we need is an international jewel thief with a heavily armed assault chopper. Still, I suppose we'll have to pay Mr. Senior for the transponder codes he let us leak to Norm."

"Don't remind me Susan. I dislike playing one villain off another, but you're correct, it's better to have that bird out of commission." Will Du sighed heavily and looked at Betty Director's visage again hanging on the wall. He wondered if she would be handling things differently if she were still here, she and Possible.

Too many deaths in two years, and so many of them, he now realized were the product of manipulations. It galled him the most to know that he was directly responsible for at least one. How had he ever been naïve enough to allow the statistics department to run a black-bag operation? Worse, why had he not requested, no, demanded, a report on what it was, and why a department dedicated to predictions and statistics even needed such resources.

The sooner he could get Susan Justice groomed to take over this chair, the sooner he could get his inept ass out of it. Possible had been write, he played by the book far too much to be in this game.

"Director Du?" again Susan's silky voice brought him back to the present, "I know you and Miss Norm are… well…"

"Romantically entangled. Yes... I'm quite aware that we did not keep our infatuation secret, agent Justice. And yes, you are to place her in custody when you locate her. We cannot prove she did not incapacitate Agent Jenkins and restore her loyalties to her uncle. So, you have your orders?"

"Yes, track the three free-lancers, locate either of our primary targets and the evidence needed to bring them in, locate Jenkins and his surveillance team, and bring them all home to GJE."

"God speed Agent Justice. Du out." He hung up the phone and sat back heavily in the chair.

Hopefully, before the day was out, he could have at least one of his three entwined problems resolved.

He picked up the dossier on his desk and flipped it open, looking at the forms. He still hadn't decided if he could, or even should, charge Kelly Sheba Go with homicide over Stout's and Spark's deaths. If the men were rouge agents, then she had done them a small service. If they were clean, and also being misled by Norm, then the woman had committed a cold-blooded, if misguided, act of murder.

Also, there was still the question of her few remaining warrants. Crimes that could, without a doubt, still be tied to "Shego." She was a wild card in all of this. First as hero, then a thief and a mercenary, and now possibly as a hero once again. Was Unique Possibilities paying her for her services, or had she returned to the side of good?

Monique Browne, with her chocolate battle suit, was almost as much a mercenary as the green skinned woman in his opinion, which made it that much more difficult to determine who was working for whom in what capacity. Will found himself suddenly wishing for something he'd never have thought he would: Wishing for the return of a certain loose cannon teen hero who did all of her work for the greater good, and not for the money or the fame.

Well, neither Betty Director nor Kimberly Possible were coming back from the dead any time soon; and without the only two people to ever apprehend her, Shego wasn't likely coming in from the cold either, in hand cuffs or as a hero.

---

"…last resort because it will knock yours out too Monique." Wade was speaking through both kimmunicators, one in the classic Team Possible blue, and a newer model in Ferrari red.

He was talking about the tool he had just sent to their motel and how it could be used to stop the Green Wraith if all else failed. The problem was, as he had just said, was that it would also kill Monique's ninja suit as well.

"Gee, thanks Nerdlinger, a useless weapon. Not that I was counting on the fashonita when it came right down to it anyways, but still!" Shego ignored Monique's warning look and stared into the com that Ron was holding, as she seemed to choosing his over Monique's a lot today. "I mean, Wraith can block my plasma, but can she block my mad- WHAT THE FUCK!?"

Monique cut off Shego's boast by lifting her straight into the air from her sitting position, one handed no less, by the back of her collar. The only thing that let the green mercenary keep her feet on the ground at all was her height advantage. "Do you mind?! I was trying to tell the nerd that I still have years of mad combat skillz. What about you Mochachino?"

"Oh, I got the skillz to pay the billz girlfriend… so don't go couting me out. If this green bean wannabe thinks she can take out my bff, blast you, and help this weirdo Dr Norm set Ron up, she's got another thing or three coming." The gilded lightning bolts glowed gold up the arm's of Monique's battle suit as she released Shego's collar.

Shego tried to hide the small but surprisingly impress smirk as she was allowed to drop back onto the bed. "Fashion plate by day, mercenary by night… I like it… looks like my job's in jeopardy once we get this mess sorted out. Just when did you learn the trade though? Kimmie never mentioned sparring with you, and I don't remember you doing much more than screaming in fright the last time I ran into you."

"Yea Mo… just when did you learn to fight? I mean, I've got the mystical monkey madness going on, and Kim, she trained for years, _and_ trained me too. Don't tell me you got those jumping jack flash moves I saw in the cemetery from watching Pain King and Steel Toe." Ron looked at his friend-cum-merc a bit critically.

Monique looked down, and subconsciously rubbed the back of her neck where the Learninator mrk 1 was beginning to leave a thick callus from her repeated use of the knowledge enhancing chip. "Um… I'm a fast learner?"

Shego suddenly eyed her and faster than even Monique and Ron's heightened reflexes could register, the malachite-skinned woman was behind the dark one, and was yanking the hand away from the back of her neck. "That's the third time in as many days that I've seen you rub… You've been chipped!"

Ron was on his feet and across the economy motel-room in a flash at the word 'chipped', rubbing shoulders with Shego as he looked at the thickened and slightly pale skin that Shego was feeling around. He too recognized pale thick skin as having been exposed to an electronic impulse repeatedly.

Well, until Monique activated one of the ninja suits latest toys and shocked both their wrists away from her collar line and the back of her neck.

"Owwwie!"

"Sunuva-!"

"Yeah… so the twins made me a little upgrade… so what?" Monique challenged the two figures that had fallen back into a pile on the bed behind her.

"So what? Listen chocolate… Brain chips are nothing to mess around with. I had a scar on my forehead for two weeks after Drakken chipped my happy ass with a mind controller. Pumpkin's was there even longer, and I _know_ we both had killer brain burns for months after. That's _with_ magical cometary healing goodness."

"Monique, seriously, that's some six-alarm-sauce badness. Especially if those four little holes came from Dr. Bortel's Moodulator. That thing gives me the-," Ron tried to get out all the major bad impulses this revelation was heaping on him, but degenerated into a series of stutters.

"Moodulator?!" Shego was about to add to her own misgivings when she was suddenly upside down by one ankle and in the middle of the room. She resisted the urge to grab and incinerate the mocha-colored ankles before her face, and stared up at Monique with a little irritation. "Fine… so you got the skillz to grab one washed up merc. Guess we can't do anything about your silicon habit right now."

Ron gave his surviving best friend a worried look and sighed. Shego was right, and there wasn't anything they could do about it this very second.

"All right. So I guess the next question is, now that we have a working silicon phase disruptor to take out the nano's in the battle suit, where do we find Wraith and Norm?"

Their question was answered when Wade cleared his throat, reminding all of them that he was still patiently waiting to finish his own explanations. His chocolate face was still on the kimmunicator screens that lay forgotten on the dresser.

"Well, since someone torched our only lead to Dr Norm and GJE," He eyed Shego as best he could from the little com's, "I've been looking for other plasma blooms, and one just popped up in downtown, outside the Hyatt Regency, it's on the move in a hurry."

"You rock Wade." Ron spoke up with Kim's usual cry of triumph and clipped his blue kim'com to his belt as he got the map to their new lead and ended the call.

---

This time Sara had parked the Triple herself, though every fiber of her being wanted to again dump it right at the hotel's entrance as she had the night before. It took every ounce of self control and discipline not to charge the hotel room doors and wring the neck of anyone inside. She'd already had three hits from her inhaler as well, and keyed up was to her state of mind as slightly loud was to an MC Honey concert.

Taking as deep a breath as her scarred lungs would allow, she slid her key card in the door and opened it, crouched and prepared to tackle anything or anyone that wasn't Bonbon on the other side. The door swung heavily open, and the space behind it was clear.

She crept slowly inside, ears perked for any possible noise. She could hear the shower running from the bathroom, but it didn't sound quite right. She didn't hear anything else though, and risked raising her voice, "Bonbon?"

There was no response.

She stopped in the living room area, and noted thankfully that her golf-bag was still sitting behind the door in the coat closet, and debated pausing to put on what was hidden inside. No, if she turned her back for a second, something could happen.

Slowly creeping into the main living area, Sara kept low and cursed the dull burning deep in her chest. She wanted desperately to gasp, like a fish out of water, to suck in as much air as her inflamed chest could hold, but she needed to be quiet. So she breathed as slowly and deeply as she could manage and moved closer to the bathroom. The running shower didn't sound right at all, she realized again.

"Bonnie? Honey? You in there?" She slowly nudged the bathroom door open with her toe, and eyed what she could through the open door before ducking low, running inside to avoid any shots that should sail through the air at where her head would be, had she not crouched.

Nothing… Her note to Bonbon was still on the mirror, though steam from the shower had caused it to start to soften and run a bit. Wait… no, it wasn't her note!

"_Green Wraith. _

_We have your partner. _

_You will be contacted._

_Leaving would be stupid."_

It wasn't signed. Sara hissed and stood up slowly from her crouch, inhaling deeply finally, and coughing as she inhaled the steam of the shower. She now realized the shower sounded odd because there was no one in it, and the curtain was missing. Her thief's mind told her this, now, about thirty seconds _after_ she could have used that knowledge to avoid a possible trap.

"Fuck! Who has her?!" Sara tugged her hand through rapidly dampening strawberry hair and went back into the living area, pacing from bed to desk and back quickly. "Couldn't be the iceman, not after only five days. NO WAY Shego could have beaten me here, got Bonbon out, and left a note. Grrrrr! Fuck! Fuck Fuck Fuck fuck!"

Sara stormed over to the duffel next to the bed and rapidly unzipped it with her remaining arm, tearing the zipper strip out of it in fact. She began dumping out the body suit of the Wraith armor and tugging out the heavy metallic boots. Then she opened the second duffel and pulled free the folded pieces of the Chest plate and shoulders, and looked around for the Helm's horns to screw them into place.

"I'll teach them to steal from the greatest thief around! Oh fuck them all with a metal pike, I'll teach them! Steal my girl from me will they?!" she scowled and smacked her chest with her palm, trying to be rid of the tightness and phlegm there as she found the pieces she was looking for, allowing them to fall onto the bed.

"Least they were too stupid to check the damned luggage, god damned amateurs! Lord save us from fools and amateurs!" She finally had to let go of a wet and heavy cough in the middle of her rant, doubling over against the foot of the bed and spitting a mouth full of phlegm onto the mattress, her face contorted in a disgusted scowl.

"Grrr! And this damned chest! When we get back to Europe, I am so buying a new set of lungs!" Tossing the now assembled bestial helmet of the Green Wraith onto the bed, and still clutching her chest through the thin tee she was accustomed to wearing, she stormed across the short distance to the little coat area and grabbed the golf-bag that contained the most important part of her alter-ego.

With a tug and an awkward grunt as she flopped off balance, she yanked the bronze toned and wickedly clawed combat arm out of the golf back. Thoughts of its innuendo the night before were abandoned as she shoved it onto the stump of her remnant limb with a groan, and felt the rush of sickness that accompanied its sudden feedback as it tied itself wirelessly into the receivers surgically implanted in her upper arm.

With a soft gasp and a twisting motion, the arm became nearly as much a part of her body as the natural arm it had replaced. It searched for the rest of her Wraith suit to tie into as she lifted it before her eyes, flexing the deadly clawed fingers back and forth and snapping them, causing a roiling cauldron of green and black energy to envelop the arm up to the wrist.

"Yeah… Payback is a bitch boys… and so am I …" A wicked and dark light glinted in her lone green eye as Sara turned and reached out for the bodysuit, using the wraith arm to yank her tee-shirt away and burn it out of existence as she prepared to suit up.

Within a few minutes the thick bodysuit was clinging to her like the second skin that it was, glistening in the sunlight coming through the hotel room window as she reached for the breast plate and tugged it into place. "Steal from the Green Wraith… As If! So ferociously absurd!"

Once the matching gauntlet had slid over her right hand and she'd plugged it into the sleeve of her suit, Sara snapped both sets fingers and inhaled the scent of ozone which the roiling plasma in each clawed hand generated. "I don't think I'll be waiting around for a call… I've got places to go and asses to kick!"

As the Wraith Suit came alive with the plasma energy provided by the brand new power cells, the nanobots making up its fabric portions tightened around her body and stiffened into armor, molding to every inch of flesh beneath and giving her an impure tingle. She ignored it, having bigger concerns on her mind than the physical gratification donning her alter-ego usually provided.

She extinguished the plasma fire of her gauntlets and grabbed up the last piece of her armor, the viciously sculpted troll's head helmet, it's large ruby eyes already glistening as if in anticipation of all the things Sara was plotting to do to anyone bold enough to take Bonbon from her and threaten her with her absence.

Fortunately for the Green Wraith, and unfortunately for anyone foolish enough to take anything from her, Sara had given Bonnie a small set of emerald stud earrings. Bonnie said green wasn't her color, but Sara had insisted. Unbeknownst to her lover, one was a GPS receiver, and the other was an M-UHF transmitter

A hideous mechanical voice echoed through the hotel room as Sara's altered vocalizations gave her monstrous suit a command, "Locate Bonbon, Priority One."

Inside her helmet, on the generous screen mounted before her intact right eye, a GPS screen began overlaying the outside world, and a silky male voice replied to her every whim. _"Locating Bonbon. Please Wait…"_

Sara gave a sigh of relief when the screen began panning out from what she knew to be the hotel's location. "Thank goddess she's wearing them..."

She started walking, tearing the door from its hinges as she stepped from the hotel room into the hallway; leaving the door to smolder in a sheath of green fire as she stomped down the hallway towards the elevator. A few heads popped out from other doors to see what the commotion was, but they were sent scurrying back as small bolts of green and black hellfire spat out at any door foolish enough to open.

"Nothing to see here…" the rasping metallic voice of the Wraith coolly called out to anyone actually stupid enough to still listen.

"_Bonbon located, currently on the move. Projected destination at this time is 233 S Wacker Dr, Chicago, IL, North America. Do you wish a real-time update on revised projections, Green Wraith?"_ the silky masculine voice of her on-board systems responded as she kicked open the door to the fire-stairs and began to bound down them a flight at a time.

"Sears Tower? You're damned skippy I want revised positions."

"_Alert. Building Fire Alarms Activated, Elevators Now In Fire Emergency Mode. Fire and Rescue Response Time Estimated At Three Minutes Thirty-two Seconds. Do You Wish Police Scanner Activated, Green Wraith?"_The suit's systems took on a slightly more concerning tone as she leapt another flight of stairs.

"No… Just activate the bike and shut down any telephone between here and the parking structure."

"_Working. Triumph Speed Triple now idling. On Board Systems indicate forward headlamps disabled, left turn signal disabled."_

"I know that god damn it! Status on communications blackout?"

"_Working. Telephone Communications of this building are land line only. Unable to successfully jam. Cellular telephone frequencies successfully jammed. Do you wish instructions on how to disable land line manually, Green Wraith?"_

"Oh fuck me." Sara groaned as she cleared another flight of stairs and arrived at the fourth floor, having bounded down from the thirty fourth. These stairs, which adjoined if she remembered correctly, to the parking garage. "No, no I don't. Can you Jam police and fire communications at least?"

"_Working. Affirmative, Radio and Microwave frequencies can be jammed in a three thousand foot radius with current suit configuration. Additional Jamming possible if power is diverted from plasma and repair systems. Do you wish to divert power, Green Wraith?"_

"Three quarters of a mile? No that should do."

"What the hell is that? It sounds like the devil?"

Sara looked up to see two security guards were running her way, and apparently heard her giving commands to the suit. They hadn't seen her yet, and right now, she wasn't feeling too evasive.

"Madre de Dios! Que en el Diablo es ese?!" One of the guards happened to look up and see the Wraith stomping down the sky walk towards the parking structure. His multi-lingual observation was rewarded a moment later when his chest was enveloped with a ring of green and black energy that knocked him clear of her path and into a trash can.

"Diablo is right… El Diablo Verde. Now get the hell out of my way!" The guttural tones of the Wraith's disguised voice echoed through the glass of the skywalk as sprinklers responded to the blossom of heat by dousing everything in sight with several gallons of water per second.

"_Update on subject Bonbon. Estimated arrival location still 233 S Wacker Dr, Chicago, IL, North America. ETA is seven minutes, thirteen seconds."_

"_Update on Fire and Rescue ETA, now one minute fifteen seconds."_

"_Update on Radio Jamming. Jamming Radius affected by steel reinforced concrete, effective radius now one thousand three hundred feet. Do you wish to divert power, Green Wraith?"_

Sara growled, which came out of the suit's voice box as something like screeching metal. "Yes. Divert power from plasma systems to jamming. Not like I can fire off a shot on the bike anyway."

"_Working. Power diverted, Jamming Radius now six thousand one hundred feet. Warning, Plasma offensive systems off line, time to recharge, twenty-two seconds after power restoration."_

"Display blueprint of Hyatt Regency Parking Structure, Chicago Illinois. Locate and overlay the position of the bike."

"_Working."_ Even as Sara kicked the double-doors to the parking structure off their hinges and stepped into the parking complex, the blueprints were being displayed. They panned back in her vision and tilted, and showed her, thankfully, that she was on the level the bike was on. _"Triumph Speed Triple Located. Bike Status-,"_

"You already told me the bike's status!"

There was a shout from behind her and Sara instinctively spun around, raising her hand and flicking one finger in a signal to the on board computer to fire a blast at the person behind her.

"_Plasma Systems off-line as per Green Wraith's order. Do you with to restore normal power, Green Wraith?"_

"Oh, fuck me… No." Sara watched the security guard that she hadn't blasted back in the skywalk drawing a tazer and shakily training it on her. "I don't have time for this!"

The twin wires of the tazer shot out at her and struck the bronzed jawbone that made up her chest plate, sparking impotently against it and failing to even leave a scorch. Sara grabbed them and gave a sharp yank, tugging the bright yellow tazer gun out of the guard's hands. She raised a clawed finger and wagged it at him before turning to walk down the ramp and towards her bike.

"Please tell me he's not still following me?" She mumbled to herself under the helmet as she approached the blinking green dot that depicted her beloved partner in crime.

"_Please repeat query."_ The smooth baritone of the computer asked as she saw her green race bike suddenly pop into view over a barricade.

"Nothing. Update on fire rescue?"

"_Fire and Rescue vehicles are now entering the Jamming Radius. Do you wish to amplify external sound, Green Wraith?"_

"Please." Sara winced slightly as the speaker in her helmet suddenly played the loud sirens and screeching tires of fire trucks and ambulances for her as it heard them echoing through the parking garage. "Whoa, volume down!"

As the wail of sirens dropped to a more bearable level inside her helmet, she tossed her leg up over the already purring bike, glad she'd had it modified to respond to her armor. She gunned the throttle under her left wrist and purred along with it, a dangerous smile spreading beneath the fangs of the Green Wraith helmet.

"St- stop… or I'll…"

She sighed and looked up. The same guard was again coming towards her, his baton waving limply in his hand.

A harsh metallic voice echoed out above the din of sirens and flashing lights that came up from four stories below. "Do you honestly think your little stick is going to stop me?"

"I… I… uh…"

"Consider this your lucky day… I'm not going to burn a hole in your uniform." The man looked on the verge of wetting himself as the Wraith's angry mechanical growl bounced all about in the concrete of the parking garage.

"Boo!"

Sara had to smirk as a dark spot did indeed spread from his crotch when she made a thrust of one clawed hand toward him. Then she peeled out and raced down all four stories of the garage and out into the street, dodging between two fire trucks and about fifteen of Chicago's bravest as they were unreeling hoses.

Quickly she was out into the open, and getting strange looks for being a demon incarnate on a dark green British motorcycle hauling ass away from a fire. She didn't care, as long as the suit kept jamming the police radio's for a mile around her, She could avoid most of her pursuers.

"Estimated time to Sears Tower."

"_Working. ETA to 233 S Wacker Dr, Chicago, IL, North America is seven minutes thirty seven seconds under current traffic conditions."_

"Display map… and pray to god for whoever took my girlfriend."

"_Please repeat query; Map 'and pray to god for whoever_ _took my girlfriend' not a recognized term."_

"Oh for christ's sake! Map to Sears Tower. Now!" Sara gunned the throttle on the bike and popped it up on the back tire, not caring who happened to see the Green Wraith in broad daylight for once.

---

Dr Anne Elizabeth Possible, Ph. D was losing her mind. That was the only explanation for what she was reading on her laptop at the moment. How else could she simply forget having _another_ twenty two year old daughter?

Yet that's what Wade's DNA comparison program was telling her right now. She hadn't bothered to open the laptop since her clandestine night time visit a few evenings before, and now she was simultaneously glad and shocked that she hadn't.

Sara Smith, escaped amnesia patient, shared half of her own DNA; and also had DNA in common with the boys, Kimmie, and James, at least according to the DNAnonymous v2.3 program that Wade had given her. No… This just didn't add up… Even if she were some kind of freak of mathematical probability, it was too much to be believed.

She called up her little video conference sphere and waited for the resident computer genius to show himself, her hands faintly shaking on the keyboard.

"Hey Dr. P. What's up?" the steadily growing, widening, and muscular young man smiled up at her from the screen, but his smile faded when he noticed how pale she seemed.

"Wade, son, is there any chance at all that your DNA analyzing program might be… I don't know… broken?" Anne quietly wrung her hands as the laptop balanced on her heavily distended belly.

"Well, there's always a chance, but not likely… what's up?" He leaned in a little more closely on camera from what Anne recognized as his office at Loaded Technologies.

"Um… then how is it possible that a one eyed amnesia patient from Illinois seems to be my daughter? I feel like I'm caught up in a dumb blonde joke asking if we're sure she's mine." She sighed, chewing on her lower lip and hoping that Wade could refute her sinking intuition with some technical magic.

"Um- Okay then… Deep breaths Misses P, deep breaths. I'll just grab the file from your lappy and," At once the cursor on the laptop began moving on its own as Wade took control. He whistled slightly at the DNA comparison, then pulled up a picture that was displayed in the sphere window below it on Anne Possible's laptop.

Then he fell over backwards in his chair, charcoal skin turned ashen, stone dead unconscious.

"Wade!" came the cry from somewhere behind him. Anne saw the flash of blonde hair that must belong to the co-owner of Loaded Tech who James used to work with.

On the other end of Upperton, Vivian was fanning Wade and lightly slapping his cheek. She'd never seen anyone fall over in such a cartoonish manner before. What had caused it? She looked up at the screen, and if she wasn't made of a lot stronger stuff and a decade's more life experience, she too would have dropped out of the land of the living for a few minutes.

"Holy mother of silicon, its Kim!" She ignored Wade for a moment and sat down at the chair next to his, looking at the file. "Dr Possible. What the heck is going on here? It's Kim's face, or I guess… but not her DNA?"

Anne suddenly felt a massive leaden weight being lifted from her shoulders. She _wasn't_ the only one seeing something that couldn't be possible in the files of Sara Smith. "I know um, Vivian is it?"

"Mmhmm." The cover-girl scientist responded as she flipped back and forth through the files on Anne's computer.

"Same height, roughly same weight, same age… but her DNA… God, Vivian, what if Kim's been… Is she a clone? An experiment? Could this really be my Kimmiecub?"

"We gotta call Ron and Monique!" Vivian turned around and smacked Wade again. Finally realizing there was a better way to do this, she reached around under his desk and grabbed the first-aid kit. With a few wafts of smelling salts, the african-american computer genius was coming around, and trying not to look at his computer terminal.

"Dr. Possible… Where did you get this stuff? Who is Sara Smith? That's Kim's face, and I don't care who photo-shopped this stuff, I'd know her anywhere!" He finally lifted himself up and sat down in his chair, broad shoulders almost muscling Vivian out of the camera's angle as he began working a keyboard in each hand.

"I don't know! God Wade I really don't know!" Anne seemed on the verge of tears on his screen, but he couldn't work his fingers fast enough at the moment to give her answers enough to forestall them.

Suddenly Vivian noticed something in her file and turned the flat panel to face Wade.

"Cutie, look at this! Height, weight, measurements… She's pound for pound identical to the owner of Wraith Technologies and Banshee Limited!" Vivian's blue eyes were wide and dilated as adrenaline forced things to sink into her brain that would normally be beyond reason.

"My god, do you think we've been selling weapons and tools to Kim for nine months now?! Gotta call Ron, He'll know. If anyone could figure out if it's Kim; it's the man with the mystical monkey mojo and sixteen years as her partner!" Wade was talking as he actually lifted his foot onto the desk to work a mouse as both hands were occupied by keyboards.

"Wade? Vivian? What do you mean selling stuff to Kim? Is my daughter alive or not damnit?!"

Anne was starting to genuinely panic, which was rare for a woman who was used to being wrists deep in frontal cortex during code blue situations. She continued to wring her hands and stare at her laptop screen as she saw Wade and Vivian both now frantically working multiple keyboards and pointing devices, almost blurs on the little web-cam's line of sight.

"I don't know Mrs. P., but I'm trying to find out. I want you to go down to Middleton General and get all of Kim's medical records so I can… No, never mind, I just hacked em out myself. I'm running a comparison, but it will take a few minutes."

"Wade, baby… Something's jamming the kimmunicator's… both of them!" Vivan looked up from her own terminal as multiple windows all blinked with red failure messages.

"What do you mean? That's not possible. I didn't even build Monique's, the tweebs did! It uses different frequencies. Oh Crap! The multi-band poly-phasic jamming array that Banshee Limited bought!"

"Wade Loade, what do you mean 'Oh Crap?' You tell me this very instant what is going on!" Tears were streaming from Anne's blue-green eyes now and spattering on her motherly belly and the keys of the laptop. She grabbed the edges of the laptop screen, determined to shake the answers out of it.

"Sorry Dr. P… No time to explain! Whether or not Sara Smith is Kim, she's packing enough fire power and jamming equipment to put Ron, Shego, and Monique in some serious hurt and we just sent them right to her! Gotta Go!"

The conference window of the laptop blinked out, before Anne could scream in frustration at the black man and the Nordic blonde who were telling her everything and nothing at the same time. She threw the laptop off her herself and stormed to her feet even as James was coming up from his garage laboratory to see what was the yelling was about.

"Grab the boys and get in the car, we have to go to Wade's, right now!" Anne grabbed a handkerchief from James's pocket as he stood there baffled.

"Huh? What? Who now?" Mr. Dr. Possible was feeling very much out of the loop as he was handed his jacket and keys by his very pregnant and very hysterical wife.

"James, they think they found Kimberly; and Ron's about to go get himself shot by her! Boys! Get your butts down here!"

"Dear… now calm down… I think maybe you're a little confused about something. I know Ronald upset you, but," James tried to rub his wife's shoulders, but she smacked his hands away and reached into the closet for more coats.

"Cram it dear, a mother knows these things. James, Timothy, get you backsides down these stairs this instant!"

"Whoa! Defcon…"

"…Zero and beyond! What's…"

"…going on mom?"

The twins Possible came bounding down the stairs from their rooms, sliding down the banister and landing at the feet of their parents.

"Fire up Kimmie's Sloth, the one with the jet. We have to go to that boy Wade's right this instant!"

"Did I hear…"

"…someone say Kim's…"

"…going to shoot Ron?"

"Shut up and get the car, NOW!" Anne was actually panting as she now threw coats at people and slammed the closet shut.

The rest of the Possible clan knew a command from on high when they heard it and snapped to, running for the garage, and away from their suddenly psychotic mother.

Within two minutes the bright purple Sloth 2.0 was screaming out of the cul-de-sac with its jet turbine whining, headed for Loaded Technologies, the five members of the Possible family, two adults, two teenagers, and one fetus, strapped in and holding on for dear life.

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Sorry if this chapter is a little frantic… but the characters stubbornly insist that these are frantic times.


	21. Chapter 21

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 21

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. (http://www .deviantart. com/ deviation/50783161/) It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Terror at 1,300 feet

Now, on with the Story...

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Bonnie grumbled, and there was an expression on her face somewhere between bemused and furious as she tugged at the thick ropes that had her hands behind her back, around the leg of the Trans-particle Vortex Recombinator. After a few minutes of pointless struggles, she realized that she was just as stuck to the device as she had been to the trees both times that fish-boy Gill had used nasty slimy mucus to stick her there... oh well, at least she was in no danger of mutating this time, or so she hoped.

"You do realize what I'm going to say next, don't you?" She eyed the man in the multi-colored lab jacket. She guessed that at least four clowns had given up their lives to make that jacket, and probably the rest of his absurd outfit.

"Most likely probability is that you're going to insist that The Green Wraith will save you. To which I'm most likely to respond that that is precisely what I am planning on." Norm shook his head as he checked that all the settings on the TPVR were correct and wandered about it in a half distracted manner.

"Oh, Sara's coming all right. She's going to so kick your butts. She's fucking crazy you know." Bonnie smirked and nodded enthusiastically, even though she had just fulfilled the weirdo's prediction.

Dr. Norm ignored her and adjusted a dial on the machine, shaking his head slightly. There was a strange gleam in his mis-matched eye and he appeared to be moving his lips even when he wasn't speaking. Finally he did speak up, "Yes yes... as I said, that's precisely what we are counting on. The odds indicate that when she arrives, so will Shego, Monique, and that boy they are traveling with will also appear. Global Justice Enforcement can be rid of all four of them and another apparent terrorist act on the Sears Tower will only increase the organizations latitude."

Bonnie took a moment to blink and contemplate that before renewing her struggles. What were the dork and that arrogant fashion girl doing coming here? Stoppable used to chase Kim around on her missions, was he moving up the food chain? She groaned slightly, because if this was the case they were all well and truly screwed. The boy couldn't do anything right. She tried to remember who Shego was as well. Wasn't she one of Kim's old foes? A green woman?

"yeah... well... the more the merrier! You're going down Dr Wack-job!" She tried to sound haughty and confident, but there was a tremble of uncertainty creeping into her voice now. How had she gotten into this mess? She'd woken up after a very enjoyable evening, wanted to take a shower and cuddle, maybe do some shopping; and now she was strapped to some weird machine that made spinning blue lights and had to listen to some reject from clown college rant on.

Slim and Abbey, meanwhile, were sitting near by on the roof, one floor above the observation deck, and watching Dr Norm Rant on about his plans and calculations. Slim rolled his eyes. Abbey wrung her hands slightly.

Slim, grunted at his bandaged and braced ribs, and tried not to scratch madly at the adult diaper he was now being forced to wear thanks to the black slime that woman had sprayed into his lap. He began scowling even more as Al Norm continued to rant on. "Honestly, he goes on and on more than a horny rooster at dawn."

Abbey would have chuckled, if she weren't so caught up in panicking. Where was Will's team at? She hadn't seen them in two days now! And uncle Al had apparently gone off the deep end as well as to the other team, why else would he be plotting to blow up the same tower all over again? In broad daylight when there were people inside no less!

Abbey sighed softly and ran blue chipped fingernails through her black and blonde hair, wondering when help might arrive, if any at all would. She blinked as Doctor Al Norm pulled not a merely clipboard from thin air, but an entire man, in a GJE uniform.

-----

Ron smacked at the side of his blue Kimmunicator and growled under his breath at it as they pulled to the base of the Sears Tower. Wade had been using satellite tracking to follow the Green Wraith's power signature, but he had just cut out in a burst of static. He looked up in frustration for a moment, and blinked. apparently he wasn't the only one having problems.

At least a dozen people passing by on the sidewalks were also eyeballing, shaking, and smacking their cell phones, and the various beeps and pings in the air indicated every one of them had lost signal. "Hmmm... this is... odd. Why is everything gone all diablo?"

Monique's kimmunicator, the ferrari racing red unit, was also awash in static, so she just tossed it into the back of the rented van and pulled up in front of the building. She moved to the back of the rental and opened the hatch, pulling out the three boxes there and eyeing her erstwhile companions. "Well, Somehow I don't think they're going to let us just walk in there with me in my battle suit and Shego with her claws... Luckily I brought along one or two of Kim's toys."

The first box was opened, and Ron was a little shocked to see two bright blue jet packs with folded black wings. Then he stopped, pointed to each of the women, and then himself, while counting on the other hand. "Ummmmm..."

Shego immediately grabbed one and started strapping it to her back, a cool smirk on her lips, which were shockingly unpainted today, and merely a slightly darker malachite than the rest of her face. "Obviously you have to take the elevator Stoppable."

Monique looked a little uncomfortable on Ron's behalf, but nodded, chewing her lower lip. "Sorry Ron, You know there's only two of these in existence, and like I said... They aren't going to let me or Glow stick just walk in considering what happened last time she was here."

"I don't suppose I could take the stairs?" There was a sheepish expression on Ron's face, that belied the faint terror currently wrenching his guts into a complex sailor's knot.

"Got a problem with the fucking elevator Stoppable?" Shego scowled as she picked up on the dilation of his pupils and the sudden flop sweat appearing on his forehead. She could easily pick out the signs of fright with years of experience and training. The last thing she needed was someone having a panic attack on her revenge trip.

Monique rested a palm on Ron's shoulder, squeezing it slightly as she looked back to Shego, "Ron's a little skittish about them since he spent three hours trapped in the one at the top of this damned tower bleeding from his face and hands. _You_ got a problem with _that_?"

Shego decided she wanted to be looking anywhere but at the faces of the surviving members of Team Possible at that moment. Where she glanced was up, and what she saw was a familiar black helicopter circling the tower. Without a word of apology, she thumbed the thruster in her hand and shot skyward, climbing towards the restored roof line of Sears Tower.

Coughing slightly in the exhaust fumes, Ron and Monique waved there hands in front of their faces. Then Monique began unbuttoning her blouse, and Ron looked away out of modesty.

"Oh chill out gifilte fish boy... not like you haven't seen them before, remember? Besides, if you _did_ look, you'd see theres nothing to see."

Actually, Ron didn't remember, but he was a little shocked to find out Monique apparently did. He wished desperately that he had time to stop and ponder this new knowledge, and turned back to realize Monique was wearing the body of her Chocolate Ninja battle suit beneath her clothes.

She smirked at him and reached passed his hip for the second box, which was opened to reveal her mask, gloves, and boots. "Chill out, and grab your gear. You have to take the lift, but I got a present for you..."

She handed him a credit card-like security card that had the image of the tower on it and a magnetic stripe down the back. "Use that on the fourth elevator on the right, express to the roof. Should take you about three minutes once you get in, because it's the VIP elevator, not the high-speed public one. Can you handle that?"

He nodded a little uncertainly at her as she pulled one of the customized boots on and its lightning bolt shaped strip glowed to life. "Yeah... I- I think so."

Yanking on her gloves, she stood up and patted him on the shoulder. "Look, I know I've been a TIQ these last few days... Sorry, okay?"

"TIQ-?" His question was cut off by a quick kiss on his lips from a pair of dark, yet very soft ones.

"Total Ice Queen. Now grab your gear and get that albino butt upstairs, okay?"

Ron blinked again in confusion, and felt as if the universe had decided to play a shell game with him today... A dream about a gay bonnie with a one eyed woman, Shego actually thrusting responsibility on him, and now two revelations in as many minutes from his best friend. He could only watch as Monique pulled her mask on and followed Shego skyward. Ron looked up, following her ascent to see Shego already seemed a master of the jet pack, circling above a few hundred feet and waiting for her.

He shook himself out of his shock induced stupor and tugged out the last box. He was pleased to see his red grapple-dryer and backpack, along with his steel toed climbing boots. He very briefly considered just using these to ascent the glass facade of the tower, but realized it would take far longer than the terror-inducing concept of an express elevator to the roof.

As he heard two blasts from above, signaling the mashed down throttles of the two flyer's, he sighed and shed his shoes in favor of the heavy boots. With a quick series of clicks, he fastened the buckles of his backpack and then hung his grapple dryer from his hip. Casting one more glance skyward at the retreating green and brown blurrs, he sighed and took a deep breath before jogging through the doors of Sears tower.

-----

On the opposite side of the tower, the source of a radio interference field a mile in diameter was also staring up the tower, and a deep metallic rasping sound came from deep within the ghoulish troll helmet that dwarfed her actual head. Sara growled and tried to figure the best way up the tower. She bet that it wouldn't be by fighting every security guard in the building on her way towards the 1,342 ft roof line of the shortened Sears Tower.

"_Subject Bonbon located 233 S Wacker Dr, Chicago, Illinois, North America, altitude one-thousand three-hundred fifty-one feet above street level."_ the voice of the Wraith armor's onboard computer intoned in her ear in its usual silky baritone voice.

Sara growled and sighed. She really didn't want to try this new aspect of the suit out without a safety rope, and a local fire department, and a test dummy to wear the suit, but she had little choice. "Activate rocket lift pack and gyroscopes."

"_Working. Systems online, maximum safe lift height is eight hundred feet."_

She growled, again making a harsh screeching sound to anyone watching the trollish Green Wraith. That was a little over half of what she needed. Then she remembered that number represented the fuel needed to safely lower her back to the ground. "Maximum lift distance without safety factor?"

"_1,503 feet assuming favorable winds."_

"More than enough." Sara grinned wildly, deciding the rush to get to the top would be worth it as long as the wind didn't carry her away from the building and allow her to exhaust her fuel. Small rockets appeared in the heels of her clawed boots and under her elbows as she held them up in a rather theatrical manner. "Fire!"

She felt her stomach slide south of her knees as she was suddenly thrust skyward, and right at the black face of the building. A split second later the suits balancer kicked in and made her arms move just enough to carry her back. The visage of dozens of stories of sky-scraper whipping by in a flash did nothing to help her earth-bound stomach though. She focused on the green readouts to try not to vomit down her front as the mini-rockets carried her towards the roof, and the girl filling her thoughts, and the people who had her.

-----

Anne and James were staring at the pictures Wade had waiting for them when their jet-powered car had roared into the parking lot of Loaded technologies. It was the first time James had seen the picture, and he two had nearly passed out at the resemblance.

Tears were threatening to overflow Anne Possible's eyes as she stared at the image, which was now overlaid with the blue outline of a skull. Next to it was an older picture of Kim, with had the identical skull pressed to it. How had she missed it? It was so obvious now; Sara Smith _was_ Kim Possible. Her cheeks were fuller, and she had bad scarring on the left hand side of her face, yet both Wade and Vivian had identified the image on sight as Kimmie.

The outlines Wade's computers had come up with left almost no doubt. the two girls had identical skulls laying beneath their flesh, something Anne's trained surgeon's eye confirmed.

James was just staring, wondering why no one had bothered to tell him until twenty minutes ago that his Kimmie-cub might be alive. He was even more shocked as he looked over Vivian's shoulder at the designs she was working on. Kimmie appeared to have grown up to be very dangerous young woman, and she was packing the weapons to prove it, he recognized. "Oh Kimmie-cub, what are you doing? Just come home..."

Vivian ran a finger through long blonde hair and sighed, slapping her monitor in frustration. "Still nothing! Damn it! Nothing short of a tight beam microwave burst is going to get through to the kimmunicators with this level of interference! Wade, next time you build a signal disruptor, remember to design in a back door!"

James's eyebrows arched up and disappeared under his graying hair line. "Did you say tight beam microwave? I think I just might be able to manage that. May I?" He gestured to the chair and keyboard.

Vivian looked at him in sudden awe, grinning and sliding her curvaceous frame out of the chair, spinning it for him to slip into. "If you can manage that, and you weren't married..." She giggled a bit for the first time in hours, and tried to avoid the glare from Anne's weary tear-reddened eyes.

With a few keystrokes, James brought the powerful computer into contact with his own at Middleton Space Center and began contacting the proper satellite. "Will a radius of five-hundred feet do? He turned to ask Wade as he began linking the satellite directly to this computer system.

Wade typed some numbers into one of his twin keyboards, checking the GPS coordinates closely, and biting his tongue, which protruded from the side of his mouth. "As long as no one goes flying off the building, it should be."

James tried to suppress an involuntary shiver at that thought. Kimmie apparently _had_ been blown off the building once before, and poor Ronald very nearly was as well. "All right, we'll be able to transmit in five minutes when the satellite is overhead, and you'll have a ten minute window before it passes."

"Well, while we wait… What happens after? If they catch Sara… The Green Wraith… Kim… whoever is living inside that body… what happens?" Wade, for all his genius with computers and networks, was dumbfounded as to what to do with this dark-mirror Kim Possible who packed heat, and a lot of it. He began to realize that He knew of at least one dead GJ agent who had been killed by plasma in New Orleans, and he couldn't completely rule out that it wasn't Shego who'd done the deed.

"She'll most likely be arrested for grand theft, grand larceny, racketeering, weapons trafficking… Shall I continue?"

Everyone in the room turned and looked at the slender man with black hair and a distinctive Global Justice uniform, don in the old style, not the new international blue.

Wade stared, and then began to scowl. "How did you get in here? This is a secure building, and private property, and further…"

He was silenced by a packet of legal paper that read S.S.C.A. at the top and had several very familiar names listed directly below that, along with several addresses. "Mr. Loade, if you insist on asking pointless questions, I'll be forced to act on this warrant. Now, would you rather that, or would you like to tell me why you are tracking the Green Wraith, and why three dozen of Kimberly Possible's medical records were just accessed from Middleton General Hospital?"

Vivian, not familiar with who Will Du was beyond a few pictures in the news paper, stood up and was intent on confronting him over the way the man had just waltzed in. "Now see here you not-so-cute so-and-so! He;s right, and you have no right to be in here. Let alone be harassing the very cool Mr and Mrs. P when they are expecting a baby!"

She pointed to Anne's dangerously swollen belly and it was apparent from the sudden return of her so-cal accent that she was beyond furious. She took a step towards the man, and Anne rocketed from her chair with surprising speed considering the extra thirty three pounds she was slinging around in front of herself. She didn't want Vivian setting off the man when his personal space was defended by his infamous 'stop-watch' tazer. Stepping between the two, she eyed Will with something just a shade better than contempt, but not much more than that.

"William. What _are_ you doing here…? You've shown no interest in finding my daughters killers up to now." She tried to mask the fact that everyone else in the room, herself included, was now convinced that the charges would have to be amended to _attempted_ murder.

Will Du, director of a global security task force with powers ranging well beyond clandestine… withered under the blue-green eyes of one pregnant brain surgeon, retired though she was. How was he supposed to tell her he _was_ the one who caused, at least indirectly, the death she was asking about? "Perhaps I could explain that later. I noticed a satellite being retasked and thought that since several of my agents have gone missing in the area it is targeting, that I should take a special interest… I assume retasking is Mr. Dr. Possible's doing?"

James's expression was far less forgiving than his wife's, and was probably on par with Wade's and Vivian's, especially since he'd noticed his name on the threatened warrant. "Yes, I redirected the _space center's _tight-beam comsat," he placed extra emphasis on the words 'space center' to make it clear It was a legitimate action backed by a legitimate organization.

Unfortunately for the other four inhabitants of the office, as well as the twin boys just coming in from the car they had been finding a parking space for, Will Du took that moment to be nosey. He picked up the picture that Anne and James had been examining a moment earlier and studied it with a keen onyx eye. "Very interesting research Doctor's… I wasn't aware genetics was your specialty when I referred the case to Dr. Oblongata a few months ago."

Now Anne's reddened eyes narrowed and she took Vivian's place, grabbing the agent up by his collar and shaking him with a passion. She hissed and the fire in the eyes facing Du made her look like a woman possessed, "You KNEW about this?"

The only thing that stopped Will from triggering the stop watch was the subconscious message that traveled up his spine and let him know that a very pregnant belly was now pressed against his. "Mrs. Possible, please unhand me before you do something we'll both regret. I knew the Green Wraith you are tracking is Sara Smith… I had no idea she was also Kimbery Possible. Her DNA does not match, so there was no reason to suspect."

Will was genuinely beginning to fear for her personal safety, because he could feel six pairs of murderous eyes on him and he was at least five minutes from any kind of backup. It didn't help that Wade was much bigger and more muscular than he remembered, as were the twins Jim and Tim. In an attempt to mollify the violent looking bunch he added, "However, I would like to lend Global's resources in securing her safe return."

Tim, who had come in just in time to hear the insinuation that someone knew his sister was alive for months and didn't tell them, began cracking his knuckles and stepping forward. He was itching to try out the results of twelve months hitting the weight bench, and hitting the little dark-haired politico was suddenly sounding very good.

James, despite his easy going manner as patriarch of the Possible household, was not so laid back as he seemed, He could sense the change in momentum in the room and seized on it. "And the charges against Kimmie-cub?"

"Well," Will also sensed the sea-change in the negotiations and frowned irritably, "We'll see what the circumstances are when and if Wraith is captured. That's the best I can offer considering she is wanted on three continents."

Wade wanted to strenuously object, but the computer chimed at him and a new bubble popped up on the Sphere's OS. "Communication window opening in ten seconds… who do we want to talk to and what do we want to say?"

-----

Shego and Monique rocketed up and over the lip that was the edge of the roofline of the restored Sears Tower, dropping almost majestically out of the sky and onto the asphalt gravel roofing material. Both eyed the scene keenly, taking in everything at a glance. There was a short, squat man in an absurd lab coat, a goth-looking girl sitting on an air conditioning plant, and a large piece of machinery that definitely wasn't on the tower's blueprints.

Monique was the first to spot the hostage and nearly sputtered at the irony of it all. Apparently Ron's vision, or premonition, or whatever, wasn't that far off after all. She looked around for the other party he had mentioned, but didn't see any one eyed redheads.

"Oh great…" She elbowed Shego, who looked over. It took the mercenary a moment to recognize the former pep-squad member as being one of Princess's classmates. Monique intoned in a dry and slightly ironic voice, "So… save the cheerleader, save the world?"

Shego smirked slightly, but she was a little more focused on the blue-suited GJE man who was getting up, albeit stiffly, to intercept them. "You deal with the preppy, Spider-girl… I want me a piece of that dick wad… No scratch that, I want the whole damned thing!"

There was a feral gleam in her dark brown eyes, which transitioned quickly into an ethereal green as her energy welled up from within. She snapped her hands open with a metallic 'kachink' and grinned as her talons glistened dangerously in the sunlight. She didn't ignite her claws just yet. She intended to make the law-dog bleed quite a lot before giving him the mercy of cauterizing plasma. "Come to mommy, you murderous mother-fucker!"

Monique tried not to sigh as her emerald counterpart went charging off, and then turned her attention towards Bonnie and the machine she was tied to. There was a whirling blue vortex hovering just above its twin metal arms, and Monique wasn't entirely sure she liked the looks of the dark shapes forming inside of it. She began stepping wearily towards the machine and pulled up the golden monocle attached to her mask to analyze it.

Concentrating on the odd readings about those 'crouton' things coming from the machine, she was a little shocked to say the least when her left arm was slashed open by something that whizzed past. She hissed at the sudden sting and looked down at the nasty gash just before her mocha-colored battle suit self-healed around it, pressing down to cut off the blood flow as it did so. She looked back at the path the thing that had cut her had taken, and was a little confused.

Buried in the asphalt of the roofing was a clipboard of all things. Oddly enough, its edges gleamed razor sharp in the daylight, indicating how it had stuck so deeply in the roofing, "So what, I'm being attacked by Office Outpost employees?"

She back flipped just in time to dodge another of the leather organizers, and swung her head around to see who was flinging them. Her chocolate-colored eyes settled on the man in the three-piece and riotous lab coat, and she tried not to laugh as she somersaulted towards him.

Bonnie was transfixed, the flash of green had momentarily gotten her hopes up. She quickly realized that the tall, green-hued woman was not Sara, and that she was accompanied by what appeared to be a black girl in a ninja-costume with lightning bolts on it. She was sure she recognized the green woman from somewhere, but she was a bit panicked to probe her thoughts that deeply at the moment.

"Hey, you're not Sara, but how about a lil help over here?"

Monique grumbled at Bonnie's typically demanding and commanding tone, because she was a little bit busy dodging lethal office supplies. She really didn't have time for the haughtiness, or for wondering who 'Sara' was that the queen bee was expecting. Monique yelped and leapt straight into the air a good four feet as something that looked like a sharpened CD-R disk was hurled at her, and just about took her feet off at the ankles despite her vertical leap.

"Chill out Rockwaller, got my pretty, manicured hands full here!"

Bonnie blinked in confusion. She knew that voice. It took a second to filter through the adrenaline and the fear that it really _was_ Monique, Kim's fashion-obsessed best friend from Middleton High, under the mask. Apparently the freak-o in the clown-coat had been right about who was coming to her aid.

She whined, and would have smacked her forehead in frustration if her hands were free to do so, "God, did everyone but me get into the superhero game after high school?"

She took a deep breath to steady herself. She'd been in these spots a time or two before and knew she'd just have to wait for someone to come around to untie her when they had a spare moment. "So, where's the dork at Monique? He still lagging behind and being a distraction?"

Monique, dodging a flight of nearly a dozen lethal CD-R disks that followed her as she ran, scowled at Bonnie's prone form and wished she had time to just slap the queen bitch. "Actually no. He's on his way up here to untie your skanky ass, but maybe I should call and tell him to stop for coffee. You don't seem to be any hurry or anything."

Bonnie was about to unleash her renewed zest for harsh replies when there was a roar nearby, and a green streak shot over the edge of the roof opposite them and into the air directly overhead. She looked up and grinned, blue eyes sparkling in the morning light as the blur solidified into a troll-like figure with flowing green-gray hair and large ruby eyes, and clad in green black and bronze. She would have waved like an idiot, again if only her hands were free.

"Sara! Down here!"

The Green Wraith's rocket motors chose that moment, when she was twenty feet above the roof of the Sears Tower, and getting a rather spectacular view of the scene below and the city-scape beyond, to cut out. Fortunately this was more or less as she'd planned, and she dropped out of the sky to land on two armored knees and one mechanical hand with a reverberating thud, right next to her lover.

"Miss me?" came the wrenching mechanical voice of the wraith, echoing across the roof-turned battlefield as she turned her massive beat-helmet to face Bonnie.

"You're late you know! Now untie me, it's fucking cold up here! By the way, you _did_ replace my lipstick, right?" Bonnie was attempting her queen act again, but there was more relief than harshness in her voice as she looked up to the heavily armored form that represented her rescuer.

With a flash of green plasma, golden-bronze claws slashed away the thick ropes securing bonnie to the foot of the machine as though they were nothing more than dental floss. She leapt into the Wraith's arms, trying to kiss at the face of the woman hiding beneath and whimpering for comfort.

Unfortunately, their reunion was cut short when a very tall man, who suddenly seemed to have developed the power of flight, slammed into Sara's left shoulder. She was knocked out of Bonnie's grasp and into the side of the vortex machine with a harsh clank of metal on metal.

There was a hideous growl from beneath the ghoulish fangs of the Wraith's metal maw, and the blue jump-suited man, who was apparently unconscious and actually barely wearing said shredded jumpsuit, was thrown off like a sack of potatoes.

"Who fucking threw that?" the monstrous mechanical voice demanded as she scanned the roof, pointing a wickedly clawed finger at the badly slashed and prone body of the GJE man.

"I did, you doppleganging bitch!" Shego wasn't even breathing hard yet as she started pacing towards the woman who seemed to have stolen her rep and her powers.

She flexed her own clawed hands, the new black and green leather and metal of her gloves squeaking and clicking. These were new gloves, specially reinforced for just this occasion; and she was bored with tearing up the fairly defenseless flesh of the bean-pole who thought he could stop her thirty seconds ago. She wanted to sink them into something with a little more fight, and she was about to get her chance.

She began advancing on the armor-plated bridge-troll before her, "Now… about that helicopter you stole…"

-----

The elevator was a VIP elevator, complete with marble and brass paneling and fittings. It was 5 feet by 5 feet by 8 feet high, and Ron was successfully pacing back and forth in the small enclosure. He was wishing yet again that he'd brought his _Heterocephalus glaber,_ or Naked Mole Rat, along with him to steady his nerves. His heart was thumping in his ears like thunder and a thin sheen of sweat covered his pale brow. This lift took three minutes to get to the roof, not the forty-five seconds that the express tourist lifts did. It was going to be another two minutes and forty-seven seconds of hell for Ron, and he was trying to count the laces on his steel toed boots rather than acknowledge where he was as he paced back and forth.

There was a sudden whirring in his pocket and he gasped, wondering if Rufus had snuck in and had been napping there for the last two days, which would not be unusual for the little hairless rodent. Then he realized the buzz was mechanical in nature, and reached into the deep cargo pocket for his blue kimmunicator. He remembered that a few years ago Wade had installed a rarely used vibrate function on the Kim'coms, and somehow it had gotten switched on in his pocket.

As he pulled it out, he realized that this was a good sign, considering that they had been cut off earlier, along with everyone else in the vicinity. It gave him something other than his terrorized state to concentrate on. "What's up Wade?"

There was static, and ghosting on the screen, which caught Ron by surprise. Even under the worst conditions the Kim'com was typically crystal clear. He tapped the side of the blue smart-phone and sighed. "Wade? You hear me buddy?"

The signal winked out again and he sighed, grumbling and smacking the comm. Again it whirred in his hands and a doubled, blurry image of Wade appeared on the two inch screen. "Wade? Buddy? Talk to me?"

"_Don't……Wraith. …and Sara is really… …Dr Norm blew up… …Vortex…"_ Every other word was a burst of static and he couldn't even tell what the words were supposed to be because of the way one Wade's mouth ghosted over the other, preventing his trying to read them.

"What? Say that again? What about the Wraith? And who is Sara? Wade man, try again!" Ron grumbled as the signal again cut out completely on him.

"Oh Man! I don't have time for this!" He looked up at the display above the door, and nearly lost what little breakfast he'd had, as he saw how close he was to the 113 floor and what could be the fight of his life. "Erk… I REALLY don't have time for this!"

* * *

Author's Note Additional: Okay, final battle is on! 


	22. Chapter 22

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 22

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. (http://www .deviantart. com/ deviation/50783161/) It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: So, the final climactic battle is under way here. If you're squeamish about violence or language, or hold to the theory that no one in the KP Universe kills, (which I doubt if you've read this far in the story) you'll probably just want to skip this chapter and the next one and get to the post-battle action at GJE headquarters.

Now, on with the Story...

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Shego's lip had traded in its trademark smirk for a positively snarling smile. It was an extremely evil expression that very few people had ever had the misfortune to see in their suddenly short lives, and it was one she now turned full force on her copy-cat. The malachite mercenary wondered if the plate-armored troll understood that her life-span was now measured in minutes, not years.

She was still flexing her fingers as she advanced carefully towards the shorter woman, and relished the feeling of the new gloves as titanium and ceramic claws softly clicked and shinked against each other and against the reinforced palms of the gloves.

They'd torn through the flesh of the man she now recognized as having put a fifty caliber bullet through her gut five days ago; torn through that flesh in a way that made a hot knife in butter seem tedious by comparison. She honestly wasn't paying him a second thought now that he had been tossed aside; and even if she were, she'd not have cared whether or not he bled to death from the lacerations as he lay under the TpVR.

No, these claws had been a special-order item. They cost a small fortune, and had arrived just in time to do the job they were intended to do. That job wasn't rending the flesh of Global Justice dogs; no, that was just a nice bonus. These claws had been specially ordered by Señor Senior Senior as a tool for her to use on the woman who had stolen his favorite helicopter and several hundred thousand pesos worth of jewels and rare coins.

"So… How do you want to do this? Give up and let me tear your throat out nice and quick?" Shego considered the gem-like red eyes of the Wraith as she spoke. She stopped her advanced and dropped, in a very showy manner, into a crouch and raised her hands, allowing sunlight to glint off of anodized green talons as she continued to work her fingers in a theatrical manner. "Or shall we dance?"

Sara had to smirk beneath her helm and admire the woman's sheer audacity. Their last encounter had lasted all of thirty seconds, and had ended with Shego lying in a pile on the floor after a sum-total of five blows were traded. Yet here was the green woman, ready to go again, and thinking some fancy new claws would give her a better outcome.

The Wraith chuckled, a dark metallic sound that would have sent shivers through mere mortals, and tilted her head back, drawing her own bronze-tinted claw along the side of her throat. "Hmmm, Bonbon wants my ass, you want my throat, and the weirdo in the coat over there apparently wants my head. If this keeps up, there's not going to be much left for me now is there?"

Shego was long past being frightened by the Wraith's demon-esque vocalizations. When she'd first met the clone bitch at Senor's island, it had shocked her a bit. She wasn't going to admit that to anyone of course, but it had. Then again, that had been in a semi-darkened hangar, where the mood was just perfect for such theatrics. Here in broad daylight the merc could see her for what she was, a mortal woman wearing a lot of high-tech gear; not a demon incarnation of herself sent to claim the devil's pound of flesh.

"You know what… screw tearing your throat out… I'll just splash some popsi on your ass and see if you melt. Cola does work well on clones, you know."

The mercenary spat as she started to circle now, looking for her opening. The Wraith didn't seem to have struck a stance yet, defensive or otherwise, but Shego remembered that that was the same as their last fight. The woman didn't _need_ to use martial arts, it seemed, thanks to all the added muscle and armor of her battle suit.

Sara's smirk only grew, hidden as it was under the glistening metallic teeth of the Green Wraith's ogre-like visage. She snapped the fingers of both hands and relished the flare of roiling green energy that engulfed her talons. "Clone? Oh puh-lease. I'm so much more than the original. Why else do you think they _even_ want me for beating Drakken's ass to a bloody pulp? They think I did something you didn't have the…" She held one hand in a slightly cupped gesture and moved it up and down as though hefting something in her palm, "…chutzpa… to do. I've out-thought you, out-fought you, out-stolen you… and let's face it, Bonbon's a hell of a lot sexier than your last lay."

Shego bared her teeth, but she knew better than to let anyone get her goat. Besides, she'd traded jibes with the best; and Kimmie had never had to attack her libido to get a rise out of her.

"Oh? You've done all that in six months have you? Hmmm, call me when you've stolen a thirty-two hundred ton gold dome off of a state capitol building. Let me know when you've ripped off the pope's miter from right under the Suisse Guard's nose. Give me a buzz when you're up to fighting toe-to-toe with the likes of Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable." That deadly snarling smirk returned and Shego watched the words travel through the air between them like daggers.

Sara Smith had a barely controlled temper about her. It was a hallmark of any good redhead, but with her it was far closer to the surface; and being told she couldn't live up to the former owner of her own body scratched away the little bit of thin skin that she kept that temper hidden beneath.

With a bellow loud enough to shake the soul of any mere mortals in the area, The Green Wraith charged at her predecessor, clawed hands raised and talons aiming to rip out the tongue that spewed such treacherous words. Before, Shego was just going to be permanently unable to fight, a few seriously broken bones that would keep her out of the thieving game; a little payback for throwing an entire person at her and calling her a doppleganging bitch. Now she was going to _die_.

Shego just smiled. She counted to ten as the Wraith closed the distance. Then, just as the brass-bound little gremlin came within slashing distance, Shego slapped her hands on the plated shoulders of the Wraith and catapulted herself into the air over her. Using the upwards momentum, she grabbed the horns on her foes helmet and used them as a pivot to change her direction. She swung down on her nemesis, planting a boot in the imp's back with a jarring impact and forcing the Wraith to careen forward out of control.

As she landed and righted herself, she turned and threw another verbal dagger at the doppelganger. "You can't even keep your cool against me: You honestly think you're ready to take on the likes of my pumpkin? She'd already have you in a quivering mass of self-loathing, you dumb-fuck."

Sara hissed and climbed to her own feet, turning around and flexing her own claws in a mimickry of Shego's. She scowled fiercely beneath the helm that hid her face and twitched her right thumb, signaling the computer to prepare a fire-ball. "Stop comparing me to that inane bitch. She couldn't hack it, and got her ass blown off for her troubles. Remember that Shego, cause I'll be sending you to hell to join her soon enough."

She pitched her right arm up and felt it concuss backwards as though it were a shotgun, a sphere of concentrated green hell-fire rocketing out at Shego from the demonically clawed hand.

Shego, of course, was prepared for this eventuality. The ceramic of her gloves provided more than just a horrifically keen edge to her talons. She held both hands up in front of her defensively and caught the blob of star-fire. Grunting with the effort of resisting its force, she used the momentum to pitch her arms upwards and cast it into the sky as though it were nothing more than a volleyball.

"Shit! Is my fire really that hot?!" She hissed to herself. The ceramic shielded her from most of the heat and burning, but still, her hands felt as though she'd just tried to reach into the sun. "Remind me not to do that too much more, I don't think I need my stock in plasma-flex medical put to the test quite yet!"

Returning her attention from her seared hands towards her foe, she raised her voice, "Hit a nerve did I? Sloppy form Wraith. The Princess never would have let me goade her like this… what a fucking amateur!"

True to form, Sara charged in again at the provocation, and this time she did it with enough speed to catch even the trained fighter by surprise.

-----

To her credit, Monique was vaguely aware that Shego had finished off the GJE sniper in record time and had started trading barbs and blows with the mysterious Green Wraith. However, she was a bit too distracted to hear the nature of the barbs or appreciate the efficacy of the blows.

She was also, again vaguely, aware of Bonnie scurrying behind the machine she'd been tied too after the woman she'd apparently been trying to embrace began trading titanic blows with the one who had flown up alongside Monique on twin jetpacks. Again, there were more pressing matters at hand than one scurrying ex-cheerleader.

"This is not mathematically possible! You cannot be this adept at avoidance in only the span of one year!" the little man with the wild hair and even wilder lab-coat screamed at her as if by merely stating the obvious, he could make it be so.

Monique was getting tired of dodging all manner of lethal desk-top supplies. She expected this guy to switch from CD-R shuriken to staple-remover caltrops any minute now. What was worse was when she had finally caught sight of where they guy's arsenal was located. It was located in thin air! He just kept yanking items out of the clear blue sky and hurling them at her! Was his supply unlimited? That would just rock for him, now wouldn't it?

She was having a hard time getting close to him, because every time she did, he would unleash a flight of razor-sharp compact discs or a clipboard at her and nearly take off one of her limbs with it.

"This is simply inconceivable! I demand that you stop what you're doing and explain how it is even remotely possible that you are this agile in an insufficient span of time!"

Contrary to what he had just asked her to do, Dr Norm didn't seem intent on allowing Monique to hold still and make conversation with him. Instead he reached into the air and drew out a set of mechanical drafting pencils. He hurled them, like throwing daggers, at the wildly jinking woman in mocha and gold. He grinned in triumph as one finally sank home in her right thigh, its steel tip driving into her flesh. "Finally… Even if that was the least probable of all my choices to have worked. Today is turning out to be a statistically bizarre day, it seems."

Monique hissed, the sudden pain in her thigh throwing off her balance and sending her tumbling across the roof at the end of the flip she'd been executing. As she came to a stop she remembered the key lesson from the sniper debacle last week; keep moving!

"Sunuva-! Damn that stings, now I know why Shego was so pissed!" Monique growled as she rolled, a bit lopsidedly, behind the TpVR and crouched, examining her thigh for a second. She watched in amazement as the ninja suit began to close around the steel tip of the pencil, forcing it up and out of the meat of her thigh. She was glad the suit had at least some armoring to it, as the point of the pencil had only gone in a quarter inch. Still, it hurt like a bastard. She didn't envy Shego having to limp around with an entire bullet three inches deep in _her_ thigh.

Bonnie, who was also hiding behind the machine and its pretty blue lights, looked over with a little concern as she first saw the make-shift projectile in, and then forced out of, Monique's thigh. "Okay, so you're a mutant now? Can this day _get_ any weirder?"

Monique gave her a sour look as the suit closed up around the puncture and did its best to press down against it and control the bleeding. "No Bonnie, it's just a fancy set of tights. If anyone's a mutant around here, it's gotta be you and your girlfriend Miss Thang over there."

Bonnie put up an affronted look and then turned back to her other surprising companion, a man in a blue jumpsuit who looked fairly disoriented. "See what I mean Agent Jenkins? I'm surrounded by assholes. Anyways, you were saying about getting yanked into and out of thin air?"

-----

The ding of the elevator bell seemed more like the tolling of Hells Bells to Ron. He swallowed hard, biting back bile, uncertainty, and panic as the brass-plated doors slid apart and opened on a scene of chaos.

"Geeze, it looks like an accounting department exploded up here!"

That was about all he could manage to say as he looked at the scene before him. For some reason, clipboards, CD's, staple pullers, and ink pens were scattered about in a wide arc, terminating at a funny little man with wild, multi-colored hair and a riotous lab-coat.

Commenting on the state of the roof was all he could do. Even if he'd wanted to say more, he couldn't, as he ducked a bolt of whirling green plasma that rocketed by him and incinerated the interior of the elevator he'd just come out of in a cauldron of hellfire. "Cheese and Rice!!! God and people wonder why I hate elevators!?"

Then his eyes settled on something that did cause him to evacuate his breakfast. It was a fear response, and one he should have expected. That didn't make the bile any less acidic, nor did it make things any less embarrassing as he wretched and fell to his knees, coughing in physical distress and mental agony, his stomache spasming and wanting to be rid of his egg and sausage enchirito.

When he looked up again finally, wiping the back of a gloved hand over his mouth and hiccupping, it was still there. He'd hoped it had just been a mistake his brain made in interpreting the passing glance, a hallucination of fear; but there it was.

The machine that killed KP.

He felt a whirring in his pocket again, and grumbled. Wade was still trying to contact him apparently, but he didn't have time now to pick up the kimmunicator and find out why. His eyes darted around, away from the pile of vomit and the ghost of a machine he knew to be destroyed.

He saw two flashes of black and green going at each other at almost super-human speed. Well, given what he knew about Shego, it probably _was_ super-human speed. God that was a lot of green!

Wait… a lot of green. His inner voice was reminding him of something. He fought back more bile and dry heaves, and tried to concentrate despite his trepidation. He remembered the machine showing him something eighteen months ago. Two figures in green fighting, one taller than the other. "Holy Naco, it's a damned time machine!"

Ron scrabbled to his feet and looked around for Monique. He didn't see her, but he did see other people. One, apparently the victim of either Shego or the Green Wraith, lay in a heap at the foot of the dreaded TpVR. He was bleeding, badly. Ron recalled his conversation with Shego a few nights before, and her strangely satisfying tales of vengeance. He found himself not particularly caring that the man was hemorrhaging from half-inch deep lacerations all over his body.

Then he remembered three painful slaps to his face, which reminded him that he was better than that. He decided he better at least check to see if the guy had a pulse, assuming he could get to him as the clown-man scientist started searching for Monique.

More important than the man soaking in his own bodily fluids though was the needs to shut off the time machine. Already he could see the tell-tale shapes in its whirling blue dish solidifying. Ron had just about closed the distance to Drakken's time machine when he felt something whiz by his face.

He hissed and grabbed at his cheek, and after a moment he drew away his black-climbing glove to see a dark red smear on its palm. He looked up to see clown-doctor holding what looked like CD's in his hand as though they were throwing stars. Ron shivered at the man's horribly misaligned teeth. He must be British.

"Damn that hurt! Honestly, who throws a CD? Really?!" Ron looked around for anything he could use to deflect the apparently deadly discs. Ninja training kicked in, knowing he would need something to keep projectiles at bay while he closed in on either the man or his machine. He saw a clipboard that didn't have the edges sharpened and picked it up, his eyes keenly taking in the fingers that held the discs being hurled against him.

An outside observer would have been hard pressed to describe the look in Ron's eyes. Years ago they had changed from the brown he'd had from birth to a deep sapphire. If someone were close to him, they might be tricked by the glint of cold march sunlight into saying that his eyes glowed the way Shego's did. Or would it have been a trick of the sunlight after all?

Ron's mind was now moving fast with adrenaline and mystical monkey power as he swung the steel clipboard from side to side and shattered plastic CD's. It made a leap of logic and intuition and he turned his eyes to glare across the roof. He changed his direction away from the TpVR and started moving towards Dr. Norm; who tried flinging discs faster and harder at him only to have each one either sail harmlessly past or shatter against one of his own precious clipboards.

"You're the one who did all this, aren't you? You blew up the building, you got rid of Dr Director. YOU KILLED KP!" Ron was quickly closing the distance, and ignoring the shrapnel generated by each shattering CD despite the fact that it was nearly as dangerous as the intact razor-sharp circlets. A few tiny cuts appeared on his cheeks, making him appear that much more determined as he advanced.

"Blast it all! First Monique Browne evades me, and now the inept sidekick charges me! Blast and damn! This is not in the range of probabilities; it's not possible! Abbey!" Al norm called out for his niece and scowled at the young running back that was advancing on him.

Ron smirked slightly, something he seemed to be picking up from Shego. "Hey, we're Team Possible! And anything's possible for a Possible!"

Ron clapped his hands on the man in the patch-work lab coat and spun him about fiercely, tossing aside his clipboard-cum-shield and glaring dangerously at the apparently insane doctor.

-----

Shego found herself in an odd and disturbing position as she stared up at the Wraith. She was flat on her back.

Now Shego, a former teen hero herself and a trained and battle hardened mercenary, was used to losing her footing from time to time in a fight. Even the greatest brawler in the world would get tagged with a lucky shot every now and then. She'd been put down to her knees, or knocked back once in a while in battles, and she'd begrudgingly admit it if asked.

However, being flat on one's back, in her experience, was not the same as getting hit with a lucky blow. Being flat on her back meant she had completely failed to stop a clean shot. Only one person had _ever_ put her flat on her back.

Something here just wasn't right.

She looked up at the face of the Green Wraith, which was heavily shaded and only just visible beneath its gaping bestial helmet, and scowled. There was something familiar about the vague profile she could see half-hidden there. She could just make out a dark eye patch, and something in her adrenaline pumped brain clicked together.

She remembered another face with an eye patch, also shaded and disguised, from a cold November night in San Francisco. At the time she'd thought it a phantasm… a visit from Betty Director come back from the beyond. Now she knew it was something far less ethereal.

"You bitch! Your set all this up, didn't you?! You payed me off to stay out of sight. You're the one who got my warrants voided. You're the reason Global Justice came after my family and locked them up!"

Sara smirked wryly and bowed with a flourish, the metal plates of her gremlin armor chinking against one another.

"Guilty as charged… except that last one. I don't know who would want your family locked up." The mechanical beast voice of the Wraith admitted quite happily to her machinations as she again moved towards Shego.

With that admission, Sara slammed her clawed boot down on the space that Shego's abdomen had occupied a split second before. She bellowed in frustration and wheeled, flinging bolt after bolt of bubbling energy after the rolling woman. "Get back here and die like a good victim already!"

"Fuck that shit!" Shego bounced to her feet a few yards away and brought up her clawed hands again. She paused, and admired their handiwork. Small notches had been carved out of the solid metal on the Wraith's shoulders and helmet where several of her strikes had hit home. She spat, a gesture of derision for her doppelganger, and tried to ignore the blood in her mouth where at least one tooth was cracked from the blow that had waylaid her.

"Guess I am getting rusty. Last time someone made me bleed was when Princess threw me into that god damned radio transmitter."

'_no, the last time someone made me bleed was when a law dog fucking shot me.'_ She corrected herself a moment later. She rolled one hand over and curled her fingers, making the universal gesture for 'bring it' and waiting for the Wraith to charge her again.

Sara obliged and dove in again. She was intent on being done with Shego, and whoever the bizarre loon who had kidnapped Bonbon was, and getting her the fuck out of here. However, she realized she was being baited, and needed to stop acting like a rampaging bull.

She stopped just short in her charge, not fully tackling Shego. Instead she slashed out with green glowing claws, and in one moment of talons meeting fabric, she neatly removed half of Shego's top. She was a lil surprised when she saw a bare breast beneath rather than a bra. But at least it had four scratches in it, which quickly turned red as blood began to seep out.

Shego yelped and dropped back from the claw raking, looking down at her exposed flesh. The skin there didn't automatically heal itself, which concerned her; the scratches weren't that deep and should have faded as she watched. Then again, the claws that inflicted them _were_ charged with a version of her own plasma. She looked up and chuckled, wondering if the Wraith was staring at her. Her own eyes went to the smaller breasts hidden beneath the troll's mandibular chest plate.

"Jealous? Yes… they're real… and they're spectacular!" Shego smirked. She was rather proud of her body, and her chest was no exception. She didn't need to wear a bra with her jumpsuit, owing partly to its careful construction, but also owing to her pert and muscular form. How many women could claim to be a 32 C and not need 'support' after all?

Growling, Sara ignored the insult to her endowment and slashed out again with her claws, the air hissing as flaming talons hooked into flaming talons and Shego's clawed hand reached up to intercept her own. Twin plumes of hellfire mingled as she tried to force Shego back. She slashed out with her other arm, the heavy mechanical one, and tried to disembowel the mercenary.

That hand too was caught and held. They were now thoroughly stuck. Neither could attack without releasing the other. A flurry of kicks was exchanged, clawed metallic boots and knees alternately attacking and deflecting leather-clad ones as the two women tried to fight without the use of their hands.

Then Sara played her trump card. She slammed the metallic forehead of the Wraith's helm forward. It was a good six inches wide and relatively flat, and had the desired effect of a mallet slamming into Shego's face.

Shego gasped and fell back, her world spinning. The spinning then caused her to lurch forward and crash into the Wraith, who hadn't counted on this particular consequence. Something flashed through Shego's mind. A warning. Something was dangerously familiar here. It was a scent.

Not ozone, which always accompanied the use of her plasma fire; no, this was something achingly memorable. The scent was cucumber-melon. It was something she'd smelled a few times before, when pressed up against another fighter, hands locked together in titanic struggle.

A metallic screech of frustration broke off whatever the warning was trying to tell her, and she only just managed to avoid a second catastrophic head butt. Shego lurched backwards, and tasting more blood and feeling twin trickles of copper drooling from her obviously broken nose.

"You bitch! That's gonna take weeks to heal right!" She snorted irritably despite the shearing pain the act brought on.

-----

Ron Stoppable was a flurry of punches and kicks as he mutilated the face and body of Dr Al Norm. Before one blow would even land, another was already inbound towards the flesh of the Doctor, who was reeling and trying to clasp his fingers at the air to retrieve any kind of weapon.

A dangerous gleam was in the young man's eyes as he dropped back, executed a point-perfect back flip, and then pressed all his weight up with his hands against the asphalt gravel of the roof, mule-kicking Al Norm in the chest with a resounding thud. Having cleared the space immediately around him of his foe, Ron bounded to his feet and slashed his fists through the air. Dropping into another perfect martial stance and locking his eyes on the target of his rage, he sneered and watched the Doctor stumbling around in a daze.

"That one was for Rufus you sick sunuvabitch! You broke his ribs, I broke yours!"

He didn't give Norm a chance to recover, and back flipped end-over-end at the mad mathematician again. On the final flip he brought both boots against the man's face and heard a satisfying crunch as a nose was broken and a tread pattern was indelibly bruised into cheeks.

"That one was for my fucking face! Do you have any idea how much that shrapnel hurt?!"

Ron was about to match the facial damage with damage to avenge his scarred hands when he felt something sink deeply into his side. He gasped sharply and looked down to see a steel-bodied mechanical pencil protruding from just above his kidney, Norm's fist clenched tightly around the end of it.

Norm was snorting, blood flying from his split lips and aggrieved nose with each exhalation as he stared wildly with mismatched eyes at Ron.

"That was for misaligning my calculations! You foolish rogue variables have no idea what you've cost me, what you've cost Global Justice Enforcement!" He grumbled through split lips and twisted the pencil in Ron's side, causing the hero to shriek slightly and thrust both palms at Norm's chest to clear him out.

As Norm fell back and slammed against the Vortex machine, Ron gritted his teeth and yanked the mechanical drafting tool out of his side with a hand that seemed surrounded by a faint blue miasma. He stared at the small amount of gore on the tip and shuddered. One inch lower and it would have punctured his kidney; an inch higher and his diaphragm would have been the victim.

Unable to do anything at the moment to staunch the bleeding, he stared at the loon and growled, raising both hands as cerulean smoke seemed to evaporate from them. "Stop it dude. You're giving me flashbacks to Barkin's geometry class with all the math talk."

He flipped the pencil in his hand, checking its balance in a manner he didn't even realize he knew to do, and then flung it right back at Norm in the same dagger-like manner the mad math man had been throwing things at him.

The gore-encrusted pencil ricocheted off of a clipboard that had been seized from the ether, and Norm snorted again, spattering the other side of the paper holder in his expirated blood. "Be silent you fool. If you had any knowledge of the calculations involved here, you would know struggling is a futile and numerically insignificant choice to make!"

"Dude, shut up already! You're giving me a headache!" Ron was about to dive in again when someone ran up to the mad Doctor and tried to tug him back.

"Uncle Al! Stop it! This is insane! You've got to get a grip!" Abbey had chosen that moment to thrust herself into the mortal combat and try to talk sense into her wayward elder. Her black and blonde frosted hair flew wildly about her face as she shook her head and tried to get him to recognize just how messed up this situation was.

"Get away from me you little twit!" Al shoved his niece away forcefully, and she careened dangerously towards the railings of the roof. "I know it was you who called for Jenkins and his surveillance team. Do you think your possible betrayal did not appear anywhere in my calculations?!"

Norm didn't seem to realize, in his percentage-based madness, that he had just set his niece and secretary on a course that would end in her being spattered on the pavement thirteen hundred feet below. He was fixated on closing out this probability with Stoppable and getting on with his plan.

Ron did notice though, and his brain instantly kicked over from vengeance to heroics as he dove after Abbey. He didn't reach her in time to prevent her tumbling over the edge, but that was hardly an issue for Ron given his already long list of death-defying plummets over the last decade.

Spiraling over the edge of the building after the falling woman, he spun around and fired his grapple-dryer back up at the roof. A hand clad in cerulean mist grabbed the woman about the waist as he played out the line, allowing it to decelerate them rather than snapping them to a stop. Once they'd come to a halt a good three stories below the roofline, Ron flicked his thumb and began the slow ascent , trying to hold onto the woman, who'd passed out from the threat of being street pizza.

As the ascent moved him back towards the roof, more green and black flashes caught his attention, and Ron, not having much else to do at the moment, tried to remember all that he had seen in Drakken's time device nearly two years before. He remembered something now that had stuck him as odd. The images he'd watched back then had been growing clearer as time passed, and one of the final ones he'd seen had the shorter of the two combatant's left arm a lighter color. That had to be important somehow!

-----

Monique was scrubbing her forehead, tying to put together everything she'd just been told by the queen bee and this GJE man. She peeled down the mask that covered the lower part of her face and licked at her lips, wishing she at least had some water to parch the thirst that was starting to set in from her recent workout and injuries.

"Okay, so let me get this straight, Agent Jenkins. You say that this Dr. Normal,"

"Al Norm"

"Yeah, whoever… Anyways, he set up the explosion on the tower two years ago,"

"Eighteen months ago."

"Will you stop interrupting me dillweed?! Now where was I?" Monique looked from the man in the blue jumpsuit to Bonnie. "Oh yeah. This Norm weirdo set up the explosion with Will Du's consent, and then used it as cover to get all these new laws passed."

She looked at Jenkins, who after a moment realized this was the point where he _was_ allowed to speak. "Yeah. Only when Director Du found out that the whole plan was to murder Shego and Kim Possible, not just get evidence against them, he sent us in to collect more evidence against Dr. Norm."

Monique listened to the man's faint Texas drawl and nodded slightly as he repeated his earlier version of events. "And then this math freak found you following him and tossed you into some other dimension, along with your entire team and your surveillance van. Right?"

"Yes ma'am. Right freaky place too, full of all these notebooks and clipboards. All of it was in his handwritin' too. Years worth of stuff." Jenkins nodded again, and shuddered at the memories of free floating in that bureaucratic limbo for days.

Monique wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and turned to Bonnie, wanting to get her story straight now as well. "Meanwhile, you've spent the last week in a shootout with Russian mobsters. Then flying cross-continent with this Sara Smith woman, who's a jewel thief living in London; and happens to have a nuclear powered arm. That about right, Bonbon?"

Bonnie reached across the space between them and smacked Monique across the cheek harshly, her blue eyes hard as sapphires. "Shut your mouth Monique. Only one person gets to call me that, and you're not her."

She took a few deep breaths, and tried to calm herself; shocked at the passion behind her reaction to someone else using that pet name. She sat back heavily and rubbed her own forehead, holding her face in her palms. Was the little redhead really that important to her after just a week? Was Sara that deep under her skin already?

The shock and the fact that she'd been naked in the shower when she'd been kidnapped this morning didn't help her thinking, or her disposition. At least they'd been good enough to bring along her bathrobe when they took her though. Bonnie continued to glare at the African woman for a moment before putting her face back in her hands and sighing deeply.

"Oh-kay… Moving along…" Monique resisted the urge to rub her stung cheek, or to return the favor, and resumed her paraphrasing. "But before that, you don't know anything about her; aside from 'she can fly a helicopter and ride a motorcycle like a bat out of hell with its ass on fire.' That about the size of it?"

Bonnie nodded as she continued to rub her face. She realized just how insane it sounded to her, She really didn't know the first thing about her insane little bitch. But she wanted to.

Suddenly she looked up, eyes wide with shock and self-realization as she came to a conclusion about her current life situation, "Monique, you've got to stop that green bitch from killing her! She's all I've got! She's-,"

Bonnie's words were cut off as a shadow fell across them in the cold morning sunlight. They looked up and Monique just groaned, pulling her facemask back up over her nose and mouth and rising stiffly to her feet. "Great… Just what my happy ass needed today, Zombies."

The man they were looking definitely could play the part of Zombie number three in any good horror movie. Agent Slim was ashen gray, where he wasn't covered in rusty brown half-congealed blood at least. His formerly dark blue GJE uniform was slashed to ribbons across his chest and arms, and it too was soaked with dark brown stains.

He also shambled quite a bit like a zombie, and the three people hiding behind the vortex machine wouldn't have been too afraid of him, had he not been holding a pistol on them as he stumbled forward.

"Now you three hold still right where you are." Slim's speech was a little slurred, partly due to obvious shock and blood loss, and partly due to the fact that there was a long slash in his right cheek that opened and closed disturbingly as he talked, allowing them to see his teeth and tongue working like something out of an anatomy chart.

Monique wasn't having any of this. Shego was just going to have to learn to finish what she started as far as the chocolate ninja was concerned. She turned towards Slim and flicked her left wrist, and a nearly invisible monofilament line whipped out from the inside of her wrist, attaching to the gun and whipping it out of his hand.

In his hypoxic state, the seven-foot four-inch Slim looked a little dumbly and slowly down at his now empty hand, and then back up at the trio. He did so just in time to catch the bare foot of a bath-robbed Bonnie Rockwaller squarely between the eyes. "Ki-ya!"

Monique was a little dumbfounded by what she had just seen. Her motion to raise her fist and strike the shambling henchman had been cut off by Rockwaller darting past her and planting her foot upside his nose. The already well-mauled enforcer dropped like a puppet with its strings cut. "Girl… That wasn't no cheerleading stunt!"

Bonnie straightened her hair and then her robe, and turned back, nodding with satisfaction as she looked at the armored hero. She smirked haughtily. "Don't you remember Hirotaka-san? Yeah, well he showed me some moves. Apparently everyone in Japan is like a ninja or something, 'cause he said they learned them at his school. Guess he only showed his moves to his number one girlfriend."

"R-riiiiiight. Okay…" She looked askance at the ex-cheerleader, who was busy wiping blood off the sole of her bare foot as though it were nothing. "Now, Shego and the Wraith, and Ron…"

Monique's half-asked question was answered by three pulses of plasma screaming over her head and vanishing into the TpVR's portal, which brightened and expanded in response. A moment later the bolts were followed by a familiar titanium grappling hook that anchored itself near her brown-booted feet.

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:::To be continued:::


	23. Chapter 23

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 23

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. (http://www .deviantart. com/ deviation/50783161/) It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Coming into the home stretch now folks… Everyone seems to be on the verge of discovering just who and what The Green Wraith is… and yet the only people who actually know can't get through. So, for whom will the revelation be happy? And for whom will it not be? _Warning, there's A LOT of "f" bombs in this chapter._

Now, on with the Story...

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Wade did something he had never done in all his professional life, and that was saying something. He slapped a computer tower in frustration. "Damn it! Nothing is getting through! You're right Viv… next time someone asks me to build a jamming device, smack me upside the head and say 'Don't do it.' Gah! I can't get stable bandwidth!"

Vivan frowned and considered something for a moment, pursing her lips and tapping a few keys on her keyboard.

"Bandwidth… bandwidth bandwidth bandwidth… BANDWIDTH!" Blue eyes flashed brightly and she grinned, turning to face her business partner. "God you kids are so like totally spoiled these days with DSL and Fiber-optics and microwave uplinks."

A couple of sets of ears perked up from their dejected state to hear what the bombshell robotacist with the so-cal accent had to say.

"Wade, cutie, darling, sweetie, cocoa-bear of mine… How much stream does it take to send two way video?"

Anne and the twins blinked at the string of pet names, but their eyes turned to the hacker par excellence.

"About 756 kbs, give or take…"

"Mmmhmmm… and two way digital audio?"

Wade looked at his screens, trying to remember the last time he had needed that number, "128 kbs about…"

Vivian smirked and looked to James, winking conspiratorially at the older rocketeer, "And how much does it take to send a one way text message?"

"one way text?"

Mr. Dr. Possible laughed loudly and stepped past Wade to the keyboard. "You're right Dr. Porter… Why if I wasn't married…!" He too tried to ignore the look from his dangerously pregnant wife as he started opening up a text editor, the simplest one he could find on Wade's computers. "Wade, Vivian is right. It only takes 4800 BAUD to send even a very long text-only message. Even less if you're sending something inanely simple… Why I remember the days when Ramish and I used to…"

James trailed off as he began typing like a mad man, assembling everything they wanted to tell Ronald and Monique and Shego about the situation. After a quick review by a few people in the room, Will Du took over and rearranged the facts in order of importance tactically rather than order of importance emotionally.

He hit send.

-----

Ron sprung back up onto the rooftop and carefully laid the woman he assumed was their informant to one side. She was stone cold unconscious and didn't show any signs of awakening soon. Once she was in no danger of getting in the way, he looked around again for Norm.

Unfortunately he was distracted as he caught an armor-plated troll in the small of the back. "oooof!"

"And stay the fuck down this time! God damn it Stoppable, did you HAVE to break her fall?"

Shego was obviously winded as she started stalking across the twenty or so feet she had flung the Green Wraith. She held her hands up again, and concentrated until a green plasma field finally formed around them and looked at her doppelganger astride her reluctant partner. She limped very slightly, unable to completely mask the fact that her left calf was viciously slashed and dripping a large amount of crimson along a path behind her.

She was badly slashed over her uniform, and had Ron not been more concerned about the scrambling gremlin sitting astride him, he might have taken a moment to appreciate the emerald amazon's exposed and glistening right breast.

Sara was momentarily too dizzy to remember where she was, aside from sitting atop something that wiggled a lot beneath her. She shook her head, and the eleven pound helmet strapped to it, to clear her mind; and looked down at her impromptu seat as it tried to escape from beneath her. She saw the blonde man looking up at her, and something in the back of her mind whispered at her. She should know this guy from somewhere. Kim certainly seemed to.

Pressing her mechanical left arm down to hold him still, she concentrated on that part of her brain that seemed to hold the answer and growled quietly, not really having the time to dedicate to this.

After a second it clicked into place for her; again having to dig through Kim's now well-scattered memories was becoming a chore. A vicious mechanical growl matched the movement of her lips beneath the helm, "You're the blue-face from my dream this morning! You're Ron something-or-other!"

She raised her clawed hand into the air to strike him out from under her for having the audacity to incade her post-coital dreams, but something stopped her. Not Shego's hand; no she was still a few paces away. No, for some reason her right arm refused to strike with the speed and efficiency she demanded of it.

"Stoppable! STOPPABLE! God, why doesn't ANYONE ever remember my name?!" Ron continued to wriggle and struggle to escape from beneath the brass-clad troll atop him, wincing as he saw an armored hand rising up to smite him.

"Doofus! Duck!"

Ron actually considered making a quacking sound to be cute, but when he felt a wave of heat rushing towards him from the direction Shego was in, he yelped and covered his face with his arms.

Lucky he did, because Sara grunted and was blasted clean off of him again in a wave of almost intolerable plasma heat. He sat up when the temperature in the air immediately over him returned to something approaching normal. He was surprised when Shego extended her hand to help him up.

As he took it and was tugged to his feet, he couldn't help but draw his eyes along her body to check her status, and coughed a little in embarrassment on both their behalf's. Making brushing motions with his hand over his own chest, "Erm, Shego… you got a little something… on your something… or maybe not?"

She just groaned and slapped him upside the head with a talloned glove, "I know that doofus, but thanks for noticing. Got a paperclip handy?"

"Better, Saftey Pin! Hey Rufu- Erm, wait just a second…" Remembering his trusty better half wasn't with him, he actually had to dig through the mole rat's nest in his right cargo pocket himself, finally fishing out a large safety pin and handing it over to the malachite mercenary. He made sure to keep his eyes on hers the whole time, lest he raise her ire.

Pinning the ragged edges of her catsuit into place to at least give the illusion of modesty; she smirked at Ron and ruffled his hair, despite the deadly claws on her gloves. "You know, it's okay to appreciate a nice set of tits Stoppable. I'd be more offended if you didn't."

She gave him a wink, and then shoved him roughly out of the way as she was tackled by a charging Green Wraith hitting her about the waist.

Ron blinked as he stumbled to a stop. He just couldn't read women at all it seemed. There came a renewed whirring from his pocket and he looked around. Al Norm was out of sight at this particular second, so he'd best find out what it was Wade needed so badly to tell him, assuming he could stay connected.

He flicked the button on the device and blinked. Instead of Wade's typical face, he got a black screen with Kim's favoured pink text format. He read the first few lines and snorted. Nothing he didn't already know about Al Norm and his now defunct sniper from Director Will Du. Then a few lines explaining the interference and that he should now seriously consider using the nano-disruptor to take out the Wraith, who was its source.

Then his eyes went so wide that an observer might be afraid they would fall right out of the sockets. His shaking hands dropped the Kimmunicator as though it were a poisonous thing about to bite him.

"_No. Mother. Fucking. Way_." was all Ron could whisper as he looked up at the clash of the titans going on a few yards away. This was sick… This was wrong… This went several levels beyond wrongsick and descended into wrong-sick-wrong. It took several precious seconds for his brain to fight through shock, disbelief, dread, shock again, and a few emotions that there couldn't even be words for.

"SHEGOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! MONIIIIIIIIQUE!!!!"

-----

Having dragged the again motionless form of ex-agent Slim out of their way, Monique returned to Jenkins and Bonnie, trying to wipe the blood from her specially designed spider-gloves. All she succeeded in doing was moving red and rust colored stains from her hands onto the body of her suit, making herself look like she'd spent a few hours behind a butchers counter.

"So, B-… Ninjitsu? Lesbianism? Hanging out with a wanted felon?" She looked jadedly at her classmate and shook her head.

"So, Mo… Spider-girl powers? Bad costume design? Boinking Stoppable?" Bonnie retorted with a derisive snort. She was only guessing at the last bit, but she needed three to match Monique's three.

"What the hell is wrong with my designs, girl? I'll have you know this is trade-mark Monique Browne!"

"Yeah, if you're doing a guest spot in a blacksploitation flick."

Bonnie's next response was cut off by Agent Jenkins yanking them both to the ground, a clipboard of all things whipping through the air they had just occupied.

"Thanks Agent Jenkins…" Monique grumbled at having been caught off guard yet again by killer Office Outpost surplus.

"Where the hell is Sara when I need her?! This dick should be nuclear pile by now!" Bonnie wanted to pop her head up and look around for her knight in emerald armor, but Monique yanked her down again as a second clipboard whipped past.

"Stay Down Girl! You _want_ a new hairstyle from the neck up?"

Bonnie growled and stayed down, but started crawling around the edge of the TpVR machine. She wanted to make sure Monique's green muscle wasn't hurting her lover. She made it just around the corner of the machine when she shrieked in pain and rolled over, clutching her leg.

"God damn it! I told you to keep that Coppertone ass DOWN! Agent Jenkins, do what you can to cover me!"

Monique crawled over to Bonnie and hissed. The cheerleader had one of those razor sharp recordable CD's buried two inches deep in her calf. Monique had to smack her hands away and use the enhanced muscle of the ninja suit to hold her still so she could examine the wound. "This isn't pretty! Damn it Rockwaller hold still!"

Bonnie struggled for a second more before reluctantly holding still. She stared up into the whirling blue plasma vortex above her, because she did not want to see the rainbow colored disc embedded in her thigh again. She blinked, because the vortex was actually showing her something. It seemed extremely important.

"M- m- Monique…"

"Shut up Bonnie… and hand me your robe's belt."

This made whatever the machine was trying to show her suddenly much less important in Bonnie's narrow world-view. "I will fucking not! I'm naked under here!"

"And you're going to be dead in about ten minutes if you don't! Now hand it over! Unless of course you're more worried about Jenkins and me seeing your cootch than you are about bleeding to death."

Bonnie grumbled and started squirming about, trying to keep the robe closed as she fed the white belt out of it and down to Monique. She gasped as the cotton belt was tied about the top of her calf and suddenly twisted down like a vise. "Shiiiit! Easy Browne! I'm gonna need that leg when this is all over!"

"Shut it Rockwaller! You'll be lucky to get out of this at all if I don't get the bleeding stopped."

Monique had used the last day in Middleton to hurriedly download some first aide into her brain with the help of the learninator. She figured she'd need it after not being able to do a thing for Shego the week before at Memorial Lawns. She knew now that tourniquet wasn't the preferred method of stopping massive bleeding; but that disc had damned near cut clean through Bonnie's calf muscle, and that was more than simple pressure was going to staunch as far as bleeding went.

Global Justice Enforcer Jenkins scurried around next to them and grabbed a hold of the make-shift pressure dressing, pointing behind him furiously, "You need to go deal with that guy! I can't dodge and duck forever, and you're the one with the supersuit!"

Grumbling and rising to her feet, Monique caught sight of the twisted math man trying to circle around on them. "Hey, Nimrod, over here!"

As soon as she yelled, she vaulted as high into the air as she could. When Norm looked over at where the challenge had come from, he was greeted with empty space. The back of his head was greeted a moment later with Monique's elbow.

Unable to make even a simple sound as the blow crossed his eyes and made the world spin violently, Norm was barely able to do something unique with his hands as he tumbled forward. He literally unzipped the air in front of him and fell through into nothingness, vanishing before Monique's eyes as the air closed behind him with a loud pop.

"That's what that sucker did to me!" Jenkins, still holding Bonnies dressing in place, pointed and spat as Monique rubbed her eyes in amazement.

Then she turned to look at the machine that had been shielding them. She gasped softly at the sight it had to display for any observer. Images were now fairly colorful and only a little blurry as she watched them. There was a podium, and two men holding books were standing in front of it.

She saw Ron, in a yarmulka, standing next to a tall woman with dark hair who was clad in a short white dress that looked like one of her own designs for clubbing. Monique's back was clearly visible to Ron's right, along with someone with long red hair in a white tux, and someone else who was in a black tux, and then Wade's back, also in black tuxedo. She saw them all from the back and they were slightly blurry, so Ron, herself, and Wade were the only one's she could recognize on the right side of the image.

On the woman's left was a mountain of a man wringing his hands like he was nervous? Next to him were a pair of short redheads and a skinny girl in a dress, all four in black, be it tuxes or a dress. Again, all seen from the back, and not a one she could identify.

She saw them all starting to turn to face forward when a bolt of green and black shot over her head and into the spinning blue vortex, obliterating the visage. She spun around to see the source of the interruption and saw Shego on the ground, pinned beneath the Wraith, who was holding one of Shego's hands away from her, apparently it had been the source of the blast.

"Hold on Glowstick, I'm coming!" Monique started running towards the struggling green beans when she heard a scream and turned towards the source.

"SHEGOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! MONIIIIIIIIQUE!!!!"

-----

Shego grunted as she felt the Wraith's helmet in her gut, the arms of the imp wrapping about her body. She brought her elbows down on the back of the clone's neck and grunted as she finally felt the imp react to a blow. "Bout fucking time!"

Shego's triumph was short lived. She felt the Wraith's left hand grab her side, and she gasped. That hand squeezed with super-human strength and the mercenary felt five sickening pops as bronzed claws broke her tinted skin and sank into her flesh. A spasm of pain rocket up and down her side and she was unable to muster the air to scream at the shock of pain.

Squeezing her eyes shut against the agony, Shego did something she had only tried a few times before in her life. She charged a part of her body other than her hands with plasma. It took a lot of concentration to keep the green fire from creeping away from her elbows and back to its home in her hands, all the more with the bitch below her twisting those damned claws in her flesh.

With a roar of fury, she brought her embroiled down against the back of the woman's neck, and felt the iron grip on her sides give way as the Wraith slid down to her hands and knees. Shego didn't have the strength to counter-attack, she could barely stand or she would have char-broiled her clone right there.

She stumbled backwards, grasping her side with one hand and trying to grab anything that would allow her to keep her feet. God she hurt! Her body was raked all over, and her calf was shredded. What was worse, she didn't seem to be healing at all. The smaller scratches like the one across her chest should have already closed.

Shego finally grabbed a hold of a rail and panted, leaning all her weight on it despite her desire to do anything else. She wreleased her burning side and wiped her forehead, not only was she shredded physically and stamina-wise, but she was covered in sweat. She hadn't sweat like this in years.

"Guess the spirit is willing… but the flesh is… the flesh is…" Shego flopped to the ground, her body having given out it seemed. She gasped deeply for breath and pounded her thighs with her uncharged fists, ordering them to comply with the commands her brain was futilely sending to them. "Get up god damn it! Get up! I'm not going through this again!"

She howled in frustration and hammered at the muscles of her thighs, which were burning from exhaustion rather than an inner fire, "Kim didn't finish you with that fucking radio tower, and that fuck-head with the BFG didn't get you, I'll be damned if some second-rate thief is! Get the fuck up Kelly Go!"

Sara groaned as the world flickered back into being for her. She felt like someone had just taken a twenty pound sledge hammer to the back of her neck and then blow-torched it. She realized she was on her hands and knees, and that her right hand was still charged with ion-fire. She couldn't have been out more than a hand full of seconds then or it would have automatically switched off.

"God that bitch hits hard. Who the fuck knew she could power up her elbows?! Gotta finish this quick." she slowly started struggling up onto her knees in a kneeling position. As she did, the world spun about her and she fell back onto her hands and knees, retching onto the asphalt beneath her as her body complained that it wasn't ready to go again.

Then Sara heard something that galvanized her into action. Her body's complaints and the aches in every muscle fiber were forgotten when she heard Bonbon scream out in pain. She looked around, but couldn't see her lover anywhere, and it made her howl in frustration.

Staggering to her feet, Sara stumbled forward and set the helm's glowing electronic eyes on her target. The monitor inside the helmet showed her Shego just as she collapsed into a heap on the asphalt. Sara's grin was merciless and feral as she pressed forward. She chuckled through her panting as she saw the taller woman pounding her own legs, trying to get them to comply.

Falling forward onto Shego and pinning her to the roofing, Sara's mechanically masked voice grated out for her. "Here, let me help you with that bitch!"

She slammed her right hand down behind her, feeling Shego's knee twist to the side under the blow. A growl of frustration rattled out of her throat at the knee's failure to actually break under the assault, and she raised her fist to strike again.

Shego groaned drunkenly at the strike on her knee and rolled beneath the Wraith, trying to summon up her strength to escape. It was a no go; everything below the waist was kaput. She closed her eyes to concentrate and forced every fiber of her being into her right fist, forming up a ball of hellfire with her last bit of strength, keeping her eyes on the emerald facets of the Wraith's helm.

"None of that shit, Miss Clever!" Sara growled and snatched the wrist that Shego had sneakily been trying to charge.

Shego groaned out as a clawed hand grabbed her wrist and her final hope was discharged harmlessly into the air. The Wraith's eyes seemed to glow even more brightly as sara leaned back, and it became clear that shego's nose was about to suffer another catastrophic breaking. And this time, from the way she was unable to even lift her head to take the blow, the rest of her face would probably be shattered as well.

A piercing scream of unbelievable urgency momentarily drew Sara's attention from her limp target.

"SHEGOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! MONIIIIIIIIQUE!!!!"

-----

Susan Justice wanted someone's head on a pike. No one had bothered to inform her about the black Global Justice Enforcement helicopter that had been orbiting the top of the Sears Tower for the last twenty minutes, nor about how it had lowered a heavy piece of machinery onto the roof.

The head that would be on that pike would be mounted there because the pike would be shoved about four feet up someone's ass. She had not been updated on the fact that communications within a mile of the tower had been blacked out for the last six minutes.

That ass would easily be able to accept the pike because it would be well reamed and quite loose. No one had taken time out of their day to check on the location of Browne, Stoppable, and Shego.

She ran a hand through her short blonde hair and practically leapt up into the rear seat of the modified Comanche helicopter even as it tried to lift off with her dangling from the side. As she slid the canopy shut she yanked on a headset and yelled orders into it.

Being Agent in Charge at G.J.E. had a lot of perks and even more pull; but having the sharp voice and temper of a twenty-four year old was something that was hers, not something that came with the job. "Get those birds in the air now! Last chopper in the air is gonna be the one filing the munitions expenditures for the month!"

This caused the mixture of dark blue rotor-craft following the black Comanche to fairly leap off the tarmac and aim towards downtown Chicago. Three were V-22 Osprey carrying the strike-force muscle, two more were modified Blackhawks with huge fuel reserves to provide close fire support, and of course there was a stealth Comanche identical to her own to provide air superiority and tank busting. Only one thing was missing from the tactical assault on the third largest city in the U.S.

"Jensen. Hit that switch on your right. We need some traveling music." Her pilot had no idea what the switch marked P.A. did. It wasn't a part of the Comanche's normal combat load-out. A broad grin split his lips as brass and strings suddenly filled the air surrounding them. Even more impressive was the fact that it could be clearly heard over the rotors of four helicopters and three VTOL craft.

As _'Ride of the Valkyries'_ bellowed out across the sky, the assault group hauled ass for the top of the Sears Tower and all the bizarre energy flashes there-on. Susan Justice growled. Normally she would be stoked to ride into battle with this group, and with this sound track, but she was way behind the game, and she knew it.

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Author's Note Additional: For those off you not familiar with classical Music, "Ride of the Valkyries" is a famous piece by Richard Wagner. It's most famous as the background music from "Apocalypse Now" when a flight of Army helicopters attack a Vietnamese village. It can also be heard in the final chase scene of "The Blues Brothers" (Shego's favorite movie) and in "What's Opera Doc?" academy award winning Bugs Bunny short.

A V-22 Osprey is the US Marine Corps newest aircraft. It looks like a sleek business jet, except that at the end of its short wings are massive rotors that pivot from vertical (to allow it to take off like a helicopter) to horizontal for high-speed flight. It is used to deliver troops quickly from their staging area or ship to the hot-zone.

Comanche is a helicopter that was briefly considered by the Marine Corps and Air Force to replace the Apache and Cobra attack helicopters. It had revolutionary stealth body panels and all weapons were stored internally, giving it an extremely low radar profile and high maneuverability.


	24. Chapter 24

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 24

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. (http://www .deviantart. com/ deviation/50783161/) It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: Okay, this part and part 23 were written as one large chapter, but I figured at 10,000+ words, it might be a better idea to split them up… so here's the final fight of Darkness Without. It's all over by the crying folks… and expect that in parts 25 and/or 26.

Now, on with the Story...

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"SHEGOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! MONIIIIIIIIQUE!!!!"

Monique was still running. She couldn't tell why Ron was yelling like a damned fool when he was standing all alone and relatively unharmed. She turned her attention on the Wraith, who was just about to gut Shego from the looks of it. Launching herself into the air with every bit of balance and power that both her body and the Chocolate Ninja battle suit could provide, she kicked the Green Wraith in the side of the head with both feet, sending her cart-wheeling through the air.

As soon as she landed, Monique moved into a crouch right over Shego's prone form. She turned to look at the malachite mercenary, and shook her head. "Girlfriend, we got to stop meeting like this. People are going to get ideas 'bout us if I'm constantly saving your ass."

"Oh yeah… didn't you know I love a lil kinky coffee in my cream? Let 'em talk." Shego tried her best to smirk as her thighs finally responded and she rolled to her hands and knees behind the mocha fighter. She coughed sharply and spat out a little blood, but at least she was still moving under her own power.

They both scanned the area and their eyes settled on the prone form of the Wraith. Ron was running over to them like a man possesed; but he too spied the armored gremlin, and froze in his tracks as she sat up to face them.

"Kim?!"

"K-… KP?"

"P- Princess?!"

"Sara!!!"

Bonnie's scream of relief that her partner was still moving didn't even register as the two heroes and one mercenary looked on in awe. They stared at a face which, although badly scarred, brought light into their souls for the first time in nearly two years. With the helm smashed and in the absence of its interference, both of the kimmunicators and Agent Jenkins' GJE radio began squawking for attention. They went ignored.

Sara Smith, for her part, was nonplussed by all the recognition being thrust in her direction. She felt like someone had just twisted her fucking head off and went bowling with it. It took her several seconds to realize that her helm was no longer securely strapped to her head. She raised her hands to her head to readjust the helm, only to finally recognize that it was no longer astride her sweaty head.

"Mother fuck me… and I thought Shego hit hard." She staggered to her feet and rubbed at her face, stumbling a bit and beginning to lose her balance. She was surprised when a pair of strong arms seized her and steadied her from behind. She recognized that they weren't Bonnie's, and that was the only important thing in her mind right now.

"Get the hell off of me!" She thrust her metallic left elbow back into the gut of whoever was trying to 'help' her and staggered forward towards the sound of Bonnie's voice.

Ron gasped, the wind instantly knocked out of him and a few ribs cracking softly in his chest. He fell back, panting and whispering "Nice to see you too Kim! I'll just be over here, passing out now…"

Monique, having slightly more sense than her partner, moved in front of the woman who was supposed to be so much dust in the wind. "Stop it girlfriend. Just… just stop right there."

She wasn't sure what else to say. She'd already taken in that Kim wasn't herself. That much was clear from the simple fact that she'd willingly let Bonnie touch her. Sleep with her if what Ron had dreamt was true.

"Get the fuck out of my way, whoever the fuck you are." Sara's voice was her own, and it took a second for that to register, just like the absence of her helmet had. God her bell was thoroughly rung! So much for the intimidation factor. She raised her fists and charged up the suit, unaware of the small sparking of a shorted wire in her mechanical arm.

"Okay, the Kimmie I know would already be washing her own mouth out for saying anything like that." Shego was behind Sara now, having somehow struggled to her feet while the Wraith was laying Ron low. She laid her hands on Sara's shoulders, and found herself wanting to hug the irritating redhead who had apparently come back from the grave just to kick her happy ass one more time.

And it was indeed a very happy ass right now for having her old foe back. "Just relax, we'll get you back to Middleton and we can find out what's wrong. Come on Pumpkin…"

Sara was fighting back tears right now. She was having one royally fucked up day. She hadn't gotten her cuddles this morning. She'd had to ride, one handed, across Chicago for a decent cup of joe. She was exhausted, her armor and helmet were thrashed, and now her cover was totally blown. She just wanted to get to Bonbon and get out of here.

"Get. Off. Me!" Sara smacked her palm against her hip, and her suit suddenly pulsed with a dull green energy all over. Shego was explosively thrust away from her as a force field sprung to life around Sara's body.

Monique was a little bit shocked. Well, she was freaked out of her skivvies in all honesty. Kim was walking right towards her, talons already covered in Shego's dried blood; and she had murder in her eyes in addition to the tears.

Ron, looking up to see his best friend in the entire world stalking towards Monique, called forth every bit of will power he could. Every breath was agony with his cracked ribs, but this had to be stopped. He screamed out above the pain and the blood trickling from his lips, "Shego! Disruptor! Now!"

"Sorry Kitten, but this is for your own good." Shego, laying flat on her back for the third time today, turned her left leg and smashed the pouch strapped to it against the asphalt with all the strength she had left. There was a barely visible ripple that expanded from her leg, through the air in all directions, and finally engulfed Wraith-Sara-Kim and Monique.

Monique felt something pass over her body, or more precisely, over her suit. An instant later, she felt the mocha-colored fabric go slightly slack, and the lightning bolts that decorated the suit faded out. She yelped as she realized she was about to take the Wraith's charged talons full force with all the protection that only lycra and spandex could offer.

Sara was just about to behead the woman standing between her and her goal of Bonbon's embrace when suddenly she gained about thirty pounds. For some reason, the synthetic muscles in the Wraith armor had all given out at once. In her already weakened and exhausted state, the sudden change in mass threw off her balance and instead of removing the black girl's head; she fell forward and landed on top of her.

Without her helm strapped to her head, she had no way of hearing the warning in the suit's baritone voice that plasma containment was destabilizing. And the tiny speaker that would have made her combat arm beep audibly was the component that was currently sparking and giving her annoying little shocks through her now flaccid armor.

"Kim, Girl! Listen to us!" Monique was grateful that she hadn't suddenly been looking up at her own body from the ground, but something had to get through to her girl that they were there to help her.

"Get off me! Let Bonbon go and get off me before I gut your black as like a trout!" Sara Looked up at the woman trying to hold her and reared back to punch her hard.

Monique stared into the lone surviving green eye in abject horror. What had happened to Kim to turn her into this bitter dark little person who was so confused that she actually _wanted_ to go to Bonnie Rockwaller? She could see the anger and the tears in that single eye, and wanted nothing more than to make the real Kim come back. Make Kim recognize her and Ron.

She had to settle for dodging the armored fist that tried to punch her in the kidney. She pushed the plated girl off of her to get some room and dropped back into a stance. It seemed that whoever the new 'improved' Kim was, she was just as stubborn as the original.

Sara stepped back, and grunted. Her fucking suit weighed a ton without the power assist of its own muscles. Still, she raised her fists in stance and decided if she had to, she'd do this the old fashioned way. "God damn it bitch! Give me my girlfriend and get out of my way before someone gets killed!"

Bonnie had finally managed to limp and crawl the forty feet from the side of the vortex machine to the center of the action, with the help of the charming Agent Jenkins of course. When she heard the word 'girlfriend' her heart actually sung a little. The next words she heard made hear heart stop singing and start screaming in denial. Ron Stoppable was a filthy disgusting horrible dirty liar.

"Kim! Stop this!" Ron, too, was crawling back towards the action. Crawling on two feet, which was technically shuffeling, but crawling none-the-less. There was blood coming from the corner of his mouth and his breathing was ragged, yet each step he took seemed to be stronger than the last. His body was glowing faintly now, faintly but clearly, with a blue energy.

Sara glared at the blonde boy who had interrupted her first thing this morning and now seemed intent on again keeping her from Bonbon. "Who the fuck do you think you are any way Ron Somethingorother!?"

Ron felt as though Kim had just reached over with her armored talons and ripped out his heart. It was all the more painful because she was the one who had just started it beating again for the first time in eighteen months. He tried to draw up the energy to respond, to plead to the real Kim he knew was inside, when there was a thunderous boom nearby.

Dr Al Norm's vision had finally righted itself. He felt thankful that Monique's tremendous blow to the back of his head had not permanently damaged his optical cortex. Now that he was seeing correctly, he reopened the void and stepped out of his pocket universe to finish this horrible mathematic aberration once and for all. In his hand he held one of the pistol's he had taken from the surveillance team, and as soon as he was free of the portal, he was searching for a target.

When his eyes settled on the Green Wraith, and he heard what the blonde man called her, he screamed in denial and raised the gun towards her. "Lies! I Killed you! I'll do it again just to prove the theorem!"

He pulled the trigger twice and felt the gun recoil in his hand rapidly, knowing he had finally finished this part of the equation.

Then Norm shrieked in insane denial when the Green Wraith continued to stand there, her left arm held in front of her torso like a shield. The underside of her arm actually exploded; not in a spray of blood and viscera, but in a shower of sparks.

Norm didn't recognize that only one shot had caused the Wraith's arm to explode, the other had ricocheted off and struck the TpVR mrk 2, causing it also to begin to spark. "No! Die! Aberration! Anomaly! Eccentricity! Incongruity! Non Sequitor! Bitch!"

Sara screamed as her side was showered in hot sparks and molten metal. She grabbed the once faithful prosthetic in her real hand and pulled at it. It came apart in her hand, leaving its clamps and housing attached to her remnant; the bulk pulling free in a shredded mess of wires and servos.

"This fucking thing cost me almost three million dollars, god damn it!" Sighing and looking at the destroyed limb, she finally saw the blinking red LED that told her how catastrophic the damage actually was.

It was just about that point that the arm itself began to catch fire. Not normal fire but a vivid green and black ion fire. Sara saw Norm re-aiming his handgun and decided only one thing could be done. "Hey asshole! Catch!"

She flung the arm at Al Norm even as it began to liquefy and become engulfed in an ever growing sphere of plasma energy. Just as the molten metal of the palm was splashing against his back, Norm was trying to peel open his alternate dimension again. A strange thing happened.

The green hellfire of the disintegrating Wraith arm snapped out like a serpent at the edges of the portal the insane numbers man was creating, and intermingled with them. White light expanded from the portal and a scream that was half real and half echo came back towards the group of people watching the incredible occurrence. Norm's body seemed to become two dimensional. He became flat, as though someone had cut an image of him from a television screen. That image, flat and unreal though it was, kept screaming and twisting, his limbs flailing in futile resistance as the mutated portal sucked him in to its maw.

In a moment it was over, and with a pop the writhing portal was gone. A split second later, hundreds of smaller portals began opening, and all manner of things started falling from them. Papers, clipboards, folders, filing cabinet drawers…You name it. One particularly large portal opened up momentarily and an entire white cargo-van fell out. It fell through the roof, which was never designed to sustain the impact of a cargo van, and landed on the observation deck below.

If anyone had had time to notice, they would have found it ironic that the van fell onto a certain free-standing black granite monument, shattering it to ruble and sending the bronze relief of Kim Possible into the night air and anonymity.

On the Roof, Sara was pushing passed the stunned Monique and was just about to grab her lover up in her arms when yet another in a long line of exploding things exploded that night.

The Trans-portal Vortex Recombinator mark 2 had given up the ghost. The bullet that had ricocheted off of Sara's mechanical arm and into it had pierced its power core. After fourty seconds of trying to survive the titanic forces its own time-vortex generated; it lost the struggle and began to fold in on itself wherever it wasn't exploding outward in a paroxysm of sparks and energy discharges.

Sara was just walking passed it to her Bonbon when one of these fingers of whirling blue energy arced out and seized her body. She was lifted off of the ground and momentarily suspended in the air, bluish light exploding from her surviving eye and mouth, and from the ruined stump of her once magnificent battle arm.

Ron Stoppable, surrounded by a different, but now equally intense blue energy, cleared the distance between them and managed to grab Kim up just as the energy field let go of her and caved in on itself. The TpVR was gone, leaving with the same eerie pop that Al Norm had.

As Kim or Sara or the Green Wraith, or whoever the Gods thought she was, collapsed into Ron's arms, her green eye blinked open, the last vestiges of the blue vortex energy fading from it. She looked up to the man catching her with something that didn't seem to be entirely recognition from Kim, or disdain from Sara.

"R- Ron…"

Then the person inhabiting the scarred green and black battle armor left the realm of the conscious and aware.

Bonnie, who had been only a few scant steps from Sara when she'd been struck, limped over on her one good leg and tried to shove Ron off of her. She slapped first at Ron, and then pounded on Kim's lifeless chest through the armored breast-plate. "Sara! Sara, wake up! God damn it if this is another one of your fucking jokes I'm never sleeping with you again! SARA!"

Monique and Shego were heading towards the trio as well, supporting each other and hobbling over with arms under each other's shoulders. They were a little shocked at the apparent argument over Kim's identity, but then Shego looked up in amazement.

"What the hell? Is that… …Wagner? Monique? Did you see me take any blows to the head? I'd swear to God that I'm hearing classical music."

Monique blinked and looked around as well, "If you're hallucinating, you're on some good shit girl! I hear it to, string bean."

Then the hurricane began. If they were lesser beings, Ron, Shego and Monique would have been forced to their knees by the sudden blasts of wind that came out of the morning Chicago sky. Looking up, they watched in disbelief as three dark blue helicopters disgorged about two dozen heavily armed troops down ropes around them. Above those circled two odd looking helo-plane things and two mean looking black helicopters.

Running on instinct and adrenaline; Monique, Ron, Shego, and even Bonnie surrounded the armor plated woman lying on the ground. They all struck one form or another or martial arts stance, each facing out at the ring of troops moving to enclose them. Each of the four badly beaten combatants swore to themselves that no one but they were going to take either Kim or Sara home this day.

The music being belted out by a single black helicopter finally faded away; and Shego took a moment to incline her head towards Ron. "So I saw you handling that mad scientist a few minutes ago… Why didn't you tell me you knew how to kick ass AND take names, Stoppable?"

"Me? Why didn't you tell me you knew that nifty flaming elbows trick? You must be a real hit at parties." Neither of the two removed their eyes from the men and women they now recognized as global justice, but each shared a small grin of comradery with the other.

Monique, meanwhile, was eyeing Bonnie with something less than mutual admiration. "Girl, we're on the same side right now… but you try to take Kim and I'm going to…"

"Fuck off Mo… That's Sara. She's _my_ insane little girlfriend, and she's leaving with me…" Bonnie also didn't remove her eyes from the encroaching ring of troops, but her focus was behind, not in front of her.

The black Comanche that had been blaring the music landed nearby and a slender blonde in a skin tight blue flight suit lept out as soon as all three of its wheels were down. She walked smoothly towards the ring of agents, which parted for her like the Red Sea for Mosses on a _really _bad day.

Ron was still glowing, and with the thought of protecting the restored Kim in his heart, the miasma around him only became brighter until even his skin took on a bluish tint. He was ready to wrestle the devil Himself and give Him a two falls handicap to protect the woman behind him. Then he realized he knew the tough looking woman moving towards them.

"What the fuck do you want Agent Justice?" Ron's electrified blue eyes watched the woman in a manner not entirely unlike a lion watching a gazelle.

Shego didn't say anything to the quarter of the Global Justice Enforcement troops she was facing; but the sudden engulfing of her entire left forearm in roiling green plasma made her feelings on the outcome of this day fairly clear, especially the extended flaming middle finger.

Monique, who was without her two teammates super and/or magical powers, was still under no delusions that she could take out her quarter of the troopers as well. Friendship, loyalty, and the technology of Jim and Tim Possible were on her side. She pitied the fools facing her.

Bonnie was just pissed. She was bleeding, her foot barely worked at all right now. Her robe was only staying closed thanks to some quick work by Agent Jenkins and one of her own hair pins, and she hadn't yet gotten to properly thank Sara for the previous night. PMS had nothing on her attitude at the moment.

Agent Justice looked at the four people, who were all her age, and shuddered. It wasn't out of pity or revulsion at their bedraggled state, but in awe of what they must have already faced. And yet, here they were ready to take on twenty four of Global Justice Enforcement's top field agents, and one of them wasn't even a fighter!

"Ron, good to see you again. Handsome as ever I see. It's been what, two years now? Since the San Francisco tapioca fiasco?"

Shego growled dangerously in Susan's direction, not taking her eyes off her share of the troops, "Cut the Bull Shit badge polisher. You're not taking Kim out of here. Not EVEN over all of our dead bodies!"

Susan's eyes narrowed at the green woman. After a moment, she took out her radio and spoke into it at a level the four civilians couldn't hear. Finally she nodded and looked up. "Ron, you're about to get a call on your kimmunicator. No one is going to do anything… yet. Answer it and I think we can all sort this out and get you all to the hospital."

She held up a hand, palm flat. Her troops all stiffened, but lowered their weapons, slightly.

True to Agent Justice's word, a painfully familiar four note tune echoed from Ron's pocket. He carefully, slowly, reached down into his pocket and pulled the smart phone out. His other hand still in a monkey's claw, and his eyes never leaving Justice's, he thumbed the on button.

"Ron! It's Anne- Dr. Possible. Is Kim all right!?" the familiar voice on the comm, another he thought he'd never be allowed to hear again, sent an involuntary shudder of recognition through Ron.

"We've got her Dr. P. She's out cold right now, but she's alive and we've got her."

"Yeah, we've got the kitten safe and sound Anne, If you want to tell Blondie McBadge-bitch here to let us by, we'll have her to University Hospital in two shakes." Shego spoke up as though she and Kim's mother were old friends, though the murderous gleam in her eyes showed the troops watching her that she had not relaxed one bit.

Monique and Bonnie nodded in agreement on this point, despite their larger disagreement on the identity of the woman they'd be saving. "Either that or we can slaughter all these fuckers and then let them find their own hospitals!"

Monique was surprised by Bonnie's eagerness to take on all comers, and began to wonder just what had sparked such passion in the queen bee.

"Ron, listen to me. James and I and Wade and the boys are all here with Director Du in Upperton. It's okay. Do you hear me? Its O.K. to go with them. They'll take you to a GJ hospital that's already set up to take care of you all."

"Anne, its Shego. Remember me? You let me stay with you for a few weeks a couple years ago. Last week you accused me of murdering the daughter whose ass I'm standing here trying to protect? The one who's going to need a big sister in about a week and a half, if I'm any judge?"

"Erm… Yes, I remember you Shego."

"Well, take it from me… we're not going any-fucking-wear with the people currently pointing guns at us and at Princess. Could you please ask them nicely to put their guns away before we have to start busting heads? I don't know about me… but Ron here looks like he's about ready to go for that pretty blonde bitch's throat." Shego winked at Monique, who despite the mexican standoff, grinned back.

"Ronald. This is Director Will Du. Could you please turn your Communications device around and turn up the volume?"

Ron scowled at the faintly aristocratic sounding voice, but did as he was asked.

"Agent Justice. Is it true you're currently pointing weapons at three world heroes, a civilian non-combatant, and someone who is… at worst, a hired gun for Miss Browne?"

"…at worst…" Shego's eyes narrowed in disgust at her downgrading to 'hired gun,' but she kept silent otherwise.

Susan Justice seemed to go riding at the voice of her commander and she actually yelped out her answer, "No sir! We came into an unknown situation and took all due precautions, sir! My men are already standing down as we speak."

She waved her hands frantically behind her back at the troops, who reluctantly lowered their rifles, and pistols, and grenade launchers, and chain-fed squad automatic weapons.

Wade's voice suddenly came through the Kim'com. "Funny that. Cause we're watching on a live spy-sat feed and it looked to me like you surrounded them with weapons drawn while they were trying to help Kim up."

"Way to go Nerdlinger!" Shego grinned and pumped one fist in the air despite her fighting stance.

"Sir… I…"

"Save it Susan. Just let the kids through. Take them to GJE Hospital Number Three and get them anything and everything they need. I'll join you in about two hours." Will Du was back on the line, and then just as quickly he was gone.

"Ronald, its James. We're flying in with Director Du in two hours. Now I'm putting you personally in charge of Kimmie-cub's care and safety until we get there. Don't let anything happen to her Ronald, or so help me God I'll put you on a rocket into a black hole so deep in outer space you'll think time dilation is a new pop music group."

Ron swallowed at the deadly serious tone in Mr. Dr. P's voice and nodded, as though the Kim'com could see him. "Y- Yes Sir Dr. P. Sir!"

Ron slowly slipped the blue kimmunicator back into his pocket, and then, Shego and Monique closing in to take up his place at the front of the circle, he picked Kim up into his arms.

Shego stepped forward, but the ring of GJE shock troops didn't quite seem to part fast enough for her tastes. She ignited one clawed hand and neatly slashed a sixty-caliber machine gun in two as though it was made of popsicle sticks. "Back the fuck off or the next one is in your balls!"

A dozen other weapons were instantly trained on the deadly mercenary, but they did indeed make way for the small group of heroes, who Susan guided to one of the dark blue Ospreys.

A few moments later they were airborne and headed for the aforementioned medical facility, the strains of Wagner again following them through the skies.

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So… Is Kim coming back? Is Sara here to stay? Either way someone's heart is getting broken on the next and final chapter.


	25. Chapter 25

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 25

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. (http://www .deviantart. com/ deviation/50783161/) It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes:

Now, on with the Story...

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No one had realized it at the time, but Shego had been running on her reserves for over a week. The show for GJE atop the Sears Tower had been fueled entirely by adrenaline and attitude, and even that was in short supply for the verdant villainess. She hadn't been healing while on the tower because all of her energy had been spent patching up the fifty caliber bullet wound in her gut and its little brother in her thigh.

In fact, though Shego hadn't bothered to tell anyone, she'd only just gotten her fire powers back that morning. And pushing them to do things she didn't normally do with them, such as igniting her elbows or her entire forearm, had damned near made Shego pass out.

She'd been able to struggle to her feet after the last time Wraith-Kim had knocked her flat on her back, but only just. She'd stayed on her feet only with the thought of protecting the Princess driving her. When she sat down between Bonnie and Monique aboard the Osprey, the world faded to bottomless black. She didn't even complain bitterly when the flight nurse stitched her leg up without anesthesia. Nor did she particularly complain when Monique rolled her around like so much over-cooked spaghetti, to put a shirt on over her shredded unitard to prevent some of the more lecherous agents from staring at her.

Ron was doing exactly as he was ordered to by Dr James Possible. Even in the tight confines of the back of the Osprey, no one got within three feet of KP without informing him exactly what they intended to do. The ethereal blue glow that had surrounded him, the sign he was drawing on his itinerate monkey magic powers, had faded; but he was still a big and strong young man and no one wanted to pick a fight with him in the tight quarters of the helo-plane.

He also fended off all attempts to give him first aid, despite the trickle of dried blood at his lips and the fact that his erect posture was entirely for show. When Kim had slammed what turned out to be a mechanical arm into his chest with the enchanced strength of her battle armor, she had cracked at least two ribs. Without the monkey power to enhance his strength, Ron was barely able to keep the black spots at the edge of his vision at bay.

Still, he continued to stroke the short strawberry hair of the woman he loved on so many levels, and threatened to disembowel anyone trying to get close to her. He wondered what the consequences of summoning the legendary Lotus Blade into the back of a military helicopter would be.

There was a reason Shego had sat down between Bonnie and Monique before her body had given up the ghost and checked out for a brief vacation. The two were still ready to come to blows over the identity of the redhead in the back of the aircraft, and neither was in shape to do so.

Bonnie was fidgeting and wiggling, despite the fact that some of her honey coloring had faded. She'd lost, despite Monique's best efforts, a lot of blood from one of Norm's throwing-star CDs. One of the flight nurses had attached an IV to her arm to restore some of the lost fluid, and it even contained a hemoglobin substitute, but it wasn't doing much to restore her color.

Still, she showed the same fiery will, and selfishness, that she always had; and if she could get past the languid Shego and the hyper-vigilant Monique, she would have gone back and shown Ron a thing or three about just whose hair he was so tenderly stroking. How dare he lie to everyone about who that was. His girlfriend was dead! He was sick to try to project that onto Sara.

There was the added problem, in Bonnie's plans, of the fact that her left calf wouldn't support any weight, and was only being held together now by a complex compression dressing one of the flight nurses had applied to it. No one was telling her, but none of them liked the ashen appearance of her left foot and ankle. Yet none of this would stop Bonnie.

The instant Shego and/or Monique were outside of grabbing distance, she was going to go get Sara. Sara had saved her ass in London… and she knew that these dicks in blue were going to arrest her as soon as she woke up. This time Sara needed saving. Now if she could just find a place to change into the jumpsuit they had given her to put on under her robe.

Monique glanced back at Bonnie every now and then. She could just tell that damned cheerleader was itching to make a break for the back of the Osprey. She knew she didn't have a lot to worry about, considering that one of the medics had pulled her aside and asked, rather stupidly, if they were related. He must have thought she was mullato or something because of Bonnie's dark skin and the way she and Monique had been nipping at each other like siblings.

He'd asked because he needed to inform someone that Rockwaller was probably going to lose her foot, but that she was too pumped full of the pain killers that they had snuck into her IV to be informed directly. Monique felt a small twinge of sympathy at this. She new Bonnie took some amount of pride in her body, and in her dancing, and having to wear a plastic foot for the rest of her life was going to be a serious blow to both.

Still, the girl was not relenting in her insistence that Kim was actually her lesbian lover Sara. Monique had only seen one abortive embrace between them earlier that morning, but she had to begrudgingly admit that Kim's new short hair certainly lent a little credence to the idea of her as 'the butch.'

Pushing thoughts of the queen bitch aside for the moment; Monique looked back at Ron and felt more than a little torn. She felt like she was falling for the blond; but she now had not one but two challengers at least, for him. With Kim back, she knew she had little chance at all. She wasn't up to competing with nearly twenty years of history. No one was under any denial that Ron was still at least a little in love with Kim all through college, and Mo though Kim probably had a few of the same old feelings for him while she was still around... almost two years ago.

Yet, there was also that scene Norm's machine had shown her… Looked like a damned wedding to Monique's chocolate eyes… even if the woman with Ron wasn't anyone she recognized. So, she had a lot of decisions to make. With Kim back, she was probably out of a job too, even if the Ninja suit hadn't been destroyed. Looked like sabbatical at Club Banana was coming to an end.

The redheaded woman lying on a stretcher in the back of the Osprey, her head half in Ron Stoppable's lap, didn't move in the slightest. She didn't react to the caresses in her hair, or the IV needle being pressed into her surviving arm. Her face was still and unemotional in the extreme.

In fact, the only thing to indicate she was alive at all was the slow rise and fall of her chest now that the armor plating had been removed from most of her battered body. The woman who had been Kim Possible, teen hero; and who had been Sara Smith, thief par excellence, simply existed for now.

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Four days had passed fairly quietly for the three people Global Justice Enforcement was referring to as 'Unique Possibilities.' Ron had never actually heard the name of Monique's website before, but he found he liked it. It was equal parts homage and originality, just something he'd expect from his fashion plate friend.

The three of them had been patched up in good order, despite Shego's vociferous complaining at the hospital gowns they all were forced to wear the first three days. Finally about the fourth day, when the Possible's, and Wade and his partner were given clearences, they brought the heroes some clothes; although Shego wasn't thrilled by their choice of a black blouse and a maroon skirt for her. She felt like a christmas tree all in red and green.

Ron's chest was bound up in a new kind of immobilizer that allowed him to stand and walk without trouble, yet completely froze his aggrieved ribs in place to allow them to knit. A few steri-strips covered the deeper cuts on his cheeks where CD-R shrapnel had gashed his already faintly pock-marked face, but he was doing remarkably well under the circumstances. He seemed to be acting as the unofficial liaison for the three to Director Du, since Susan Justice was still cleaning up the public relations nightmare in Chicago.

Shego, who's medical peculiarities were also known to Global Justice, had merely been given massive amounts of high-calorie food and vitamins along with lots of water and juice, and allowed to heal on her own; subject to checkups every few hours of course. The 'checkups' of course were actually a thinly veiled excuse to make sure she didn't decide to leave the hospital; considering she still had a few outstanding warrants which were awaiting her full recovery to be dealt with.

Monique, having been fairly well off after the row on the tower, merely needed a few small stitches on her arm and thigh where Norm's clipboards had grazed her,and the mechanical drafint pencil-cum-dagger had peirced the meat of her leg. She, therefore, objected even more strenuously than Shego at having to wander the top secret hospital facility in a gown for three days. She vowed to anyone who would listen that the first thing she was doing when she got back to Middleton was designing an entirely new style of hospital gown that didn't require her to wear two to be well covered.

Bonnie… now she was another story entirely. She'd lost a good amount of blood, and couldn't stand up without a serious wave of vertigo. This put her into an even fouler mood because while Ron, Monique, and Shego were given regular access to the still slumbering woman they'd rescued, Bonnie was bed-ridden; and had her lacerated calf held high in the air for all to see. She took very little comfort in the fact that they'd managed to save her foot, because if they'd taken it off she might have been able to use a wheel chair to go see Sara. Maybe her little fox could even hook her up with a nuclear powered foot when she woke up.

With each passing hour that she was withheld from Sara's side, Bonnie's mood grew darker and more petulant. She steadfastly refused to 'squeel' on the redhead, knowing that she wanted nothing to do with helping them arrest the woman she was falling for. It didn't matter though. She realized the more that they asked her questions, the less she new about the armored theif.

True to their word, the Dr's Possible, along with Wade, Vivian, and J and T Possible, had been there within fourty-five minutes of Unique Possibilities' own arrival at the secret hospital. They were allowed to see the woman lying unconscious in the high security wing for a few minutes, before being escorted out. It would take several days to get them security clearance to wander the building since they weren't patients.

James Possible called from their hotel room that night to thank Ron for making sure 'his kimmie-cub' had made it safely from Chicago to the top-secret medical facility somewhere in Ohio. He told the young man not to worry about being shot into a black hole, and to get some sleep.

Anne Possible spent her night calling in every favor she had and getting a hold of every one of the families medical records, in addition to quietly enquiring for help from her old staff. She was under strict orders not to tell them what they were being called in for; and decided for the moment that playing by Director Du's rules would work. She didn't like it one bit, but the man had a point. Kim still had a lot of enemies, and the longer they thought she was dead, the better off she'd be in recovery.

Late in the afternoon of the forth day, when they had finally been given fresh clothes by the Possibles; Monique, Ron, and Shego were led to a large conference room. It was a video conference room, and several friendly faces stared out from various monitors. Ron recognized Professor Acari and Cyrus Botrel, and several of the other faces seemed familiar to him from Team Possible's past missions. It had to be a large conference center, since it was already physically occupied by Will Du, Susan Justice, the six member neurosurgery unit of Middleton General Hospital, Anne Possible, James Possible, J and T Possible, Wade Loade, Vivian Frances Porter; and a blue face that made the two heroes blink in surprise, and caused Shego to faint dead away.

Dr. Drew Theodore P. "Drakken" Lipsky was still confined to a wheel chair, and eighteen months in a coma had left him extremely frail; but his beady black eyes shined as keenly as always, perhaps as insanely as always too. He rubbed his unusually small hands together, which were currently lacking their trademark black rubber gloves, and watched as his former bodyguard was hauled to her feet and given a whiff of smelling salts.

"mrrph, snrtt… meh… Lemons squares!" Shego's eyes snapped open in shock at the bitter scents being wafted beneath her nose, and looked around dizzily. "Shit! I'm awake, what did I miss?"

Her eyes finally moved back to the sight that had sent her sprawling, and she swallowed hard. "Hi… Dr… D…"

"Hello Shego… Glad to see the years have been kind to you." Drakken's voice was cold and haughty; and when he said the years had been kind to Shego, he was indicating the still fading claw marks on her arms and legs where the skirt set she'd been given bared her limbs.

Will Du allowed a very brief moment to pass, and then cleared his throat. "You two can speak privately later if you like. For now we're here to deal with the matters at hand. Shego, sit down please."

It wasn't a request. Shego was still a bit uncertain of her footing, so she reluctantly complied. She looked around and noticed that the fourth member of their impromptu little circle was absent. "Where's that cheerleader girl? What'ser name?"

"Miss Rockwaller won't be joining us. In the morning she's being flown back to London to continue her treatment and rehabilitation. Her involvement in this is over for the moment, as she refuses to cooperate with us." It was Susan Justice, the cool young blonde woman who had led the assault on Sears Tower, who was speaking now.

Ron and Monique exchanged glances. They wondered what the extent of her 'lack of cooperation' was. Either she was refusing to tell what she knew about Kim's activities over the last few months… or worse in their eyes, she was still claiming that the woman laying in the security ward wasn't Kim at all.

Director Du broke them from the unspoken conversation as he called for a formal start to this meeting. "Firstly, thank you all for being here, either in person or by electronic means. We'll begin by reviewing the last few days' events. For those of you here for your medical expertise, please bare with me, this won't yet involve you yet."

"Four days ago," Du began as he looked about the faces of the young heroes and his second in command, "A rouge element within Global Justice attempted to carry out what we are terming an act of scientific terrorism. The target was the Sears Tower in Chicago."

Du went on with his unnecessarily wordy recap of the events for a good fifteen minutes before he'd even gotten to the Vortex machine's explosion. Drakken raised his frail hand to speak; and Du, sighing with irritation, acknowledged him. "Yes Dr. Lipsky?"

"You mean to tell me that you set me up all that time ago? And built an illegal copy of my intellectual property?!" His voice, the young heroes noted, had lost none of its whiney quality during his long slumber.

Will Du bit back an angry retort, taking a very deep breath. Finally he began again just as it seemed Drakken was about to renew his protests. "Dr. Lipsky,"

"Drakken"

"Fine. Dr. Drakken. I'll thank you not to repeat those allegations in this meeting. They are highly classified, and at this time not everyone here has clearance to be briefed as to their nature. I'll speak with you privately on the matter later. May I continue?"

"Gnnn… Ermmmm… Grrrr… Fine fine, yes go on."

Shego looked on in surprise. Director Du had done in a few words what usually took her three of four plasma blasts back in the day. He'd shut down one of Drakken's infamous rants. Either the blue man was slipping, or she'd need to give this weasely little director a bit more thought.

Finally Will concluded his treatise on the events atop Sears Tower and looked around. "What you all have just heard is the truth. The public is, however, being told that this was all principle photography for a major motion picture. It is to prevent the kinds of panic seen in America following 9/11 and the first Sears Tower Detonation. If any of you speaks of this beyond this room, you will be subject to immediate arrest under the provisions of the SSCA. Understood?"

A few reluctant nods were given by those who didn't already know what was going on.

"Now, on to the second issue at hand. You all know that the woman pulled off of the tower by Unique Possibilities goes by the name of The Green Wraith, or Sara Smith. Ladies and Gentlemen, brace yourselves. It is our belief that this woman is actually Kimberly Anne Possible." Will watched the people in the conference room and on the monitors as they exchanged meaningful murmurs and glances amongst one another. Finally he held up his hand.

"The specifics, as Dr Drakken alluded to earlier, are still highly classified. At the moment, she is in some sort of coma. It would appear that a combination of brain damage and psychological trauma caused Miss Possible to assume the identity she has been traveling under for at least the past seven months, and perhaps longer. We are still tracking down information on the specifics of how she survived the Detonation eighteen months ago."

Again came the murmurs. Then Drakken gave a triumphant shout, despite his deteriorated condition. "So Kim Possible… You thought you were all that… but I guess you- Hrrrk!"

Now most people would have assumed it would be Shego who would silence Drakken's rant, given her years-long quest for Kim's personal vengeance. Not to mention her intense loathing for the cerulean scientist's rants.

Those who wouldn't have guessed Shego would have laid their money on it being Ron who would wrap his fingers around the blue man's throat to choke off his taunt. They too would have been out a few bucks.

No, Dr. James Possible was the last person anyone would have assumed would be manhandling Drakken and practically lifting him out of the wheel-chair. Agent Justice quickly covered the edge of the table and moved to pull the rocket scientist off of Drakken, even as James tried to get back at him. "Drew Lipsky you sick twisted little man! That's my Kimmie Cub you're talking about!"

"James!" Anne gasped at her husband's outburst and rushed to his side, wanting to protect him from himself it seemed.

"Whoa… I like Kimmie's dad a lot better this way." Shego smirked and whispered quietly to an awestruck Monique.

Ron, like Monique, wasn't exactly sure what to make of Mr. Dr. P's outburst, so he sat back and held his tongue. Apparently threats of being sent into deep space might be more than idle.

Finally, when it seemed that some sort of order had been restored, Will took a deep breath and began again. "Now… if we could please complete this meeting without any further interruptions? Just like the actual events on Sears Tower, the official whereabouts of Kim Possible are still different from the reality. And just as deeply classified for the time being."

Again a few reluctant nods of ascent were had from the neurosurgery team and the teleconferencing scientists.

"Good. Now, the reason the rest of you are hear is simple. Kim Possible has saved this planet, this nation, and each of you personally, several times over. Each of you are experts in your given field, or know Kim's medical history intimately. Do you understand what we're asking of you?"

They all looked from one to another, mutually deciding that they did indeed know what was being asked. It was just a matter of picking a representative to speak collectively for them. Finally, Dr Cyrus Bortel spoke up in his soft voice with its non-descript german accent. "You vant us to restore Kim Possible to good mental and physical health, no?"

Anne Possible, her belly so distended with her unborn daughter it seemed as though it would burst before the assembled group, stood up. "We want you to move Heaven and Earth to get our Kimmie back."

Given that the population of the room currently included, either physically or virtually; Four members of the Possible clan, a rocket scientist, twin mechanical geniuses, a legendary computer hacker, an entomologist/chemist, a robotacist, six neurosurgeons, an astro-biologist, a very pregnant neuro-biologist, the director of Middleton Space Center, and of Middleton General Hospital, two mad scientists with experience in multiple fields, the head of Global Justice Enforcement and his second in command, a fashion designer turned detective, one of the most feared mercenaries on the planet, and a young man with mystical monkey power…

Well... Moving the Heavens and the Earth was actually well within the range of possibilities.

Will concluded the meeting, "Spare no expense, people. Kimberly Possible deserves nothing less."

-----

A week had passed, and things were slowly falling into place. Well, slowly was subjective. To Anne Possible it was interminably slow. In reality the group assembled to restore her daughter completely from her subjective death was moving incredibly smoothly and efficiently.

A set of complex surgical procedures were already scheduled on the comatose young woman who had most recently claimed to be an international jewel thief. Following those the really cutting edge work would begin. That was where Dr's Drakken and Bortel, and the twins, and Wade would be really key. Professor Acari already was providing some remarkable anti-coagulant based on Amazonian spider venom to prevent aneurysms and strokes.

Anne sat at the desk which had been set up for her her in the office of the Global Justice Enforcement hospital, and went over the most recent MRI's of 'Sara Smith' from last June. She compared them yet again to the most recent brain scans of 'Kimberly Anne Possible' of two years ago. Those were in turn compared to a third set marked simply as Jane Doe #1, as the young woman in the bed next door was being officially referred to.

There was a knock at the office door and she didn't look up as she poured over the scans, "Come in."

"Anne… Its good to see you in the flesh again. How's baby Stan doing?"

"Baby Sta-?" Dr Possible looked up and smiled in recognition. "Stan. Stan Oblongotta you old skull cracker. I understood Global had you on retainer, but did they actually fly you out to help?"

Stan's smile quickly faded at that, and after a moment, Anne's followed suit.

"No… I came out on my own when Jamie Amygda called me about some of Sara Smith's files. Anne… you realize you can't do what you're proposing, right?" He was giving her a very serious, perhaps even grave look, across her loaned desk.

"Well, I'll admit there's some major risks… but with the team we've got I don't think-,"

"That's not what I mean Anne. It's completely unethical."

Anne stared up at him as though he had begun speaking in an obscure dialect of Norwegian. "W-what do you mean unethical?"

"That woman in there is not your daughter, Anne. Kim died that night in Chicago. Everything I have read about Sara's case indicates she's a completely separate individual."

"The finger prints? The retinal scan? The crescent shaped birthmark on her… Those all belong to Kim, Stan." Anne tried to keep her breathing calm. Stan was just a little too invested in this case, it seemed, to let go. That was all this was… professional over-concern.

"The DNA… the Brain Scans and EKG's… Those all belong to Sara Smith." He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Anne. The woman in there is not even Kim Possible under the definition of the law. Her DNA is different, which is the court prescribed method for forensically establishing identity."

"Then the Law is behind the times, Stan." Her eyes narrowed and she couldn't keep the sound of betrayal from her voice completely.

"Anne, stop this. You're not that woman's guardian. You have no right to be performing incredibly invasive brain surgery on her unless her life is in imminent danger, which it's obviously not. It's ethically unsound and morally reprehensible. Sara Smith is who that woman is, and you have no right to change her mind, literally. What you're proposing is nothing short of psychological murder."

Dr. Possible couldn't argue his reasoning. His argument was sound; and it was based on established guidelines and medical principles. So she did the one thing she could do in this situation. She slowly lifted her ponderous belly out of the chair, walked carefully around her desk, and slapped Stan Oblongotta across the face.

"That is my daughter in that bed. I don't care what you, or the president of the AMA, or God All Mighty care to say otherwise. You want to bring me up on ethics charges? Have my medical license stripped? Fine… do whatever the hell you want after the surgery. I'm getting my little girl back Stan."

Reaching for the intercom, she called in the best person in the building to take care of her current problem. "Shego… Doctor Oblongotta would like you to show him to his car, could you come up here and help him?"

"Sure thing Anne. Be right there."

Stan glared at her. He turned to show himself out before the foul tempered mercenary could show up to 'escort' him. "Anne, have you even considered that if you do this, the woman who wakes up may not be Sara _or_ Kimberly? If she wakes up at all?"

Stan opened the door to step out of the suddenly icy office, and was greeted by the woman he had hoped to avoid. She blocked the door frame completely, and looked passed him to Dr Possible. "This guy bothering you boss?"

"You have no idea Shego…" Anne suddenly sounded about a decade older, if not more. She decided though, that maybe all the expressing of anger and bad feelings that James and Shego and even Ron had been indulging in recently might be just what she needed. She looked up, and tried to muster the most malicious glance she could.

"Do you know what Dr Oblongotta's medical opinion is Shego?"

She eyed the slightly balding brain man and then looked back to Kim's Mother. "Not a clue Anne, I'm just the hired muscle round here. But please, enlighten me?"

"He says that we have no right to bring Kim back. He says that Sara Smith is the rightful owner of that body sleeping in the next room." Anne's darkly teasing glance had been forced at first, but as she took in the sudden predatory glint in the mercenary's eyes, her smile began to grow and become a bit more legitimate.

"Oh does he now? Well Doctor Oblongotta… I'm not a Ph. D. in anything other than ass kicking and name taking… but I do think I know that the girl who owned that body for twenty two years has a lot more claim to it that the dyke who had it for eighteen months." Shego eyed the doctor now with a dangerous smile and reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder in an entirely unfriendly manner.

Dr. Possible winced at Shego's language, especially the 'D' word. Yet she didn't bother to intervene on Stan's behalf. He had more or less threatened her family. And that was a dangerous mistake to make any day… but especially today. Threatening to deny her her own daughter was not a smart move on the neurosurgeon's part.

"Shego, why don't you explain our position on the matter to Dr. Oblongotta on your way to the car…" She scowled at the former friend, who seemed to be more than a little apprehensive at leaving in the company of the jade woman. "And make sure to use small words, like you did with Drew. I want to be sure he understands our perspective on the matter."

Stan understood the reference. Everyone who had met Drew Lipsky in the last few days knew just who had left him in his wretched state. He was suddenly very thankful when a pair of GJE orderlies came down the hallway. He bolted right past the malachite muscle and moved behind them. "Gentlemen, I seem to have lost my way. Could you please direct me to the parking garage?"

Shego smirked slightly, "That be all boss?"

Anne sighed softly and nodded. She didn't want to admit it, but it felt good to tell Stan off and let Shego scare him witless. Maybe this was what the hospital's grief counselor had called 'venting.'

She flopped heavily back into her borrowed office chair and sighed. She was loathed to admit it, but Stan was right. If the woman in the next room woke up at all following the procedures, there was a decent chance she wouldn't be _either_ Kim _or _Sara.

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(okay, so I promised this was the end, but it looks like maybe two additional chapters. I didn't expect Anne's ethical dilemma to take up so much of the chapter. )


	26. Chapter 26

Kim Possible: "The Darkness Without" Pt 26

By Eoraptor

Boring but important legal stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation ©2002-2007. Use of the characters here is not for profit and is specifically for the enjoyment of fans of the characters and series. Kim Possible was created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Redistribution of this text for profit or without the author's consent is prohibited.

More boring but important stuff: This publication is rated by the author as R for violence and adult themes throughout. If you can't handle this type of material or it is illegal where you are located, don't complain to me or the site admin this document is posted on, JUST DON'T READ IT! This work is inspired by a fan artwork by YogurthFrost on Deviant Art. (http://www .deviantart. com/ deviation/50783161/) It is with his permission that I write these pages, and that the characters and situations here are only partly my creation.

Author's Notes: The final chapter…

Now, on with the Story...

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"Okay... another point oh-three millimeters and..." the computer beeped, letting the surgical team know that the probe had been placed properly. Anne Possible sighed with relief and gently withdrew the stylus from the top of the girl's head. "Sponge."

An attendant wiped the surgeon's brow free of sweat, for which she was grateful. This was only the third of eight probes to be implanted within the woman's brain. Each was taking about twenty minutes to place; this was going to be a marathon session since those times didn't include the power up and down tests of each probe, the scans of the surrounding tissue, and opening and closing the skull.

"Okay... Lydia, power up the probe slowly... start with three nano-jewels and-," Anne gritted her teeth and hissed softly beneath her mask, thankful to have it to hide her expression. She felt the tightening and cramping building to a crescendo and tried not to let the pain show on her face. After a moment, the spasming passed and she was able to speak again, "Sorry... three nano-jewels for five seconds. Sponge?"

Again her brow was wiped, and Anne took a moment to look at the clock on the wall doing some quick mental math. _'okay, that one was forty-five minutes. so if everything goes according to how it was with Kimmie and the twins, I have another three hours before things start too get serious. God I hope its enough time to finish this.'_

Lydia, Anne's assistant from her days at Middleton General, complied and tested the nano-stimulator probe. She nodded after the five seconds elapsed. "Looks good Doc.. Tissue response normal. We're getting lucky with Kim's brain tissue so far; none of it has been dead or too far atrophied. This is just incredible."

She could see the bright smile of hope in Lydia's eyes and nodded, finding the smile contagious. "This is fantastic.. I just hope that these probes work as advertised. If we can stimulate Kimmie's inactive centers.. she'll come back as if nothing happened."

_'or she'll wake up still Sara... or worse...' _Anne tried to hide the sigh that unwelcome thought brought on and turned to look at the monitors again. "Okay, is the fourth probe ready yet? Bol' could you please check it to make sure its functioning... we've only got one spare of these damned things."

Bol' Ntal, the indian specialist in cranial vascular shunting, nodded and carefully manipulated the probe in its stylus and checked its readings. "Yup, it's functioning normally Doctor Possible."

"Okay... entry angle at C2, thirteen degrees X, five degree's Y. Let's go people... the less time my daughter's head is open, the better." the surgical team nodded in agreement and the probe was placed at the proper position by a robotic arm, which could slip it much more precisely into the woman's brain tissue than a human hand could.

Another twenty minutes of painfully sluggish whirring gears and checking readings, and the probe was in place.

"Lydia?"

"Firing now... same result as before, good tissue response."

"Excellent... next candidate please?"

Anne tried to listen, but the sudden contraction of her womb drown out most of the sounds as she winced beneath her surgical mask. She was barely able to bite back a yelp at the sharp pains and cursed mentally. Apparently Miriam was getting impatient to join the world... and her sister's open skull wasn't of much concern to the baby.

"I'm sorry, you said C4?" a nod of confirmation. Anne gritted her teeth still, fighting the contraction until it subsided again. Thankfully the surgery was plotted out to the last millimeter beforehand, so she could help to hide her distraction by just remembering the order of operations. "Sponge please. I'm sorry... it's a little warm in here."

"Anne, you're about three days past due with your fourth child; and performing a type of neurosurgery that's never been attempted before. I think we can forgive the hot flashes."

"Thanks Lydia... now, let's get on with this."

-----

The eight and final probe was finally slid home by the robot arm, and Anne carefully removed the spent stylus from the top of the patient's head.

She'd found the moment she was presented with the girl's shaved skull, which was distressingly bolted in a metallic halo to immobilize it, that if she thought about the girl laying before her as Kim, she was paralyzed. So, the _patient's_ final nano-stimulator was now in place.

The fifth had been difficult. They;d had to start and stop the robot several times to avoid damaging Kim's brain. Over all, however, the surgery had proceeded better than anyone could have hoped.

"Okay, probe status?" Anne turned to the monitor to make sure their luck was holding with Kim's brain tissue, when something horrifying happened. There was a soft splashing sound, which echoed throughout the operating room with startling clarity. Anne cast her eyes downwards, at the soaked lap of her surgical scrubs, the evidence of her water having broken covering her legs and the floor beneath her. "Damn it Mim! Not now!"

Horrified stares greeted her as she looked up again, knowing she had just broken so many surgical, ethical, and hygienic standards that she probably wasn't even aware of them all. "Darn. Come on people... Let's finish this up."

Shakes of various heads responded and she grit her teeth beneath her mask grimacing at their reticence. "We're not done here. If I have to have this baby standing up with my hands inside Kimmie's head, that's what is going to happen. Now move it."

Bol' turned from his own station at the bed to face her, "Anne... I think you need to-,"

"NO!" She panted softly, clenching her fingers at the edge of the bed that held her currently disassembled daughter. "No. We are going to finish this treatment now. Is that clear? It can't be delayed once the probes are in place, and we all agreed I was the best person to lead this surgery. Right?"

Again, some uneasy nods and some shakes of heads. No one had been thrilled with the idea of Anne operating on her daughters brain, but given the revolutionary surgery, and the time frame, she'd been the best, if not the only, person available to perform the operation. "Good... Now... Are all the probes still functioning?"

There was a reluctant nod from Lydia, "Yes, Doctor Possible. All eight probes are ready."

"Okay... Begin the stimulation. Fifteen nano-jewels, cascade first pattern. And I don't think its too much to ask for a mop?" Anne was determined not to look ashamed by the evidence of imminent child birth at her feet.

-----

In the surgical waiting area of the GJE hospital, all the concerned parties who weren't actively participating in the surgery had broken into small groups to speak amongst themselves. The groups would occasionally break apart and shift, new members being added, other members moving to different groups, but still, conversations continued.

James was speaking quietly with Will Du at one end of the waiting room, "Surely there's something we can do for Shego? She's done nothing but help in Finding Kimmie-cub's kill- the people responsible for what happened to Kim."

Will sighed heavily and shook his head. "She killed two agents... one of them without provocation. The third is in intensive care, and has been for nearly two weeks now, Doctor Possible. He may still not survive the blood loss and infection she inflicted."

"Yes... She dealt with three dirty agents. Not the way any of us would have in her place." James Possible sighed heavily and ran a hand through his salt-and-peppered hair and tried to rephrase his point less dramatically. "But they were not good people, Director. And she's only once tried to escape since getting here. Doesn't that count for something? From what Wade told me, Shego used to break out of any holding cell within two days. She's been fully healed for over a week not and she's still here and behaving relatively well."

"Doctor Possible.. James? Shego is one of the most dangerous women on Earth. She's wanted for more than just murder, incidentally. Larceny, Grand Theft, Racketeering related to Bueno Nacho, and various violations of SSCA retroactively."

"That darned law again! I am so tired of hearing about that. Ronald said you arrested her entire family on that thing." He snorted irritably, and took several deep breaths before beginning again. "I may not agree with the girl... but I know her family are heroes who only fight for good, just like my daughter and her friends. What business do you even have arresting them?"

"Most of her family, Doctor Possible.. Not even most, actually, only her brothers. Her father, and the other members of the Go family are... Well... very well connected."

James snorted again at the young man and shook his head. "In other words they would have put up too much of a public fight for your clandestine little arrests? You're worse than show-folk and circus-people. Maybe I should get a hold of some of them and see if we can't hire a good lawyer for Shego."

-

Ron took a moment to turn his attention towards Dr Possible and blinked at the flush in the older man's cheeks as he spoke with Director Du. He heard Shego's name mentioned several times, but at the moment, he was a little bit occupied with the woman herself, as well as his other makeshift partner.

"So..." he began, and then stopped, not sure exactly what he wanted to talk about now.

"Yeah... so... Kim..." Monique tried to continue the unspoken thought, but obviously was at a similar loss.

"That brat cheerleader must have taken advantage of her." Shego shook her head and snorted derisively. "Kimmie isn't a rug muncher. At least... I don't think?"

Her mind was assaulted by a certain phantom kiss from a certain dream and she shook her head at herself, resisting the urge to touch her lips sympathetically.

"Watch your mouth Stingbean. My sister happens to be a lesbian." Monique scowled a bit at Shego. She'd gotten used to the green woman's acid tongue over the past few days. In fact, she liked Shego and the way she called a spade a spade. But there were some words she wasn't going to tolerate from the mercenary, no matter the state of their burgeoning 'friendship.'

"I didn't know Carmela was... well.. that she was." Ron blinked. He tried to wrap his mind around that, but found it was just too much at the moment. Too many revelations lately. "Anyways, Shego's right. Kim... OUR Kim... isn't gay. Bonnie was taking advantage of the situation."

Shego nodded a bit in agreement, still biting her lower lip though. "So, this Bonnie. Kim really hated her huh? God, pumpkin must really have been screwed up in the head to bed her then."

"Yeah, like two wet cats in a sack. They couldn't stand each other. May as well have been you, Shego. But Bonnie?! Least Kim respected you Shego. Erm- Respects you. " Ron blinked, having to work to correct his verbiage. Kim was going to be back. She wasn't dead any more.. past tense didn't cut it.

"Yeah... me." Shego chuckled, trying to disguise her sudden apprehension. Lately she'd been thinking bout why she worked so hard to help a dead girl she barely knew outside of weekly ass kickings and occasional villainy-related stalking. The damned morphine dream she'd had a month ago wasn't helping clear up her doubts any.

Monique shook her head and smirked. "Didn't Wade say there used to be a website about Kim and Shego?"

"Oh god, that was wrongsick, just wrongsick! GoKi I think they called it? Ewwww!"

"Hey... it could have happened... I am a hot item you know. I coulda turned the kitten if I wanted to." Shego tried to muster a smirk, but she too was just a little wierded out by the concept of people thinking she and her nemesis had been secret paramours.

Worse... that damned dream. Topless sunbathing, kisses? Sure the rest was just weird Freudian shit... but was a cigar really just a cigar?

Monique eyed Shego a bit and quirked a brow, appraising her. "Yeah, I kinda thought you went both ways glow-stick. But anyways... what happens now? I mean... Kim? World hero? Us? Sidekicks?"

She swung her hand to include all three of them and tried to form a more cogent way of expressing her own doubts about the future.

"Hu-uh... I've done the hero thing. Not for me. Not enough money in it for this woman." Shego shook her head fiercly at going back to the side of good on a permenant basis.

"Yeah, Shego isn't cut out to keep up with KP anyways. She'd have to double her Naco intake to even get close." Ron smirked proudly and sat back, proud of having zinged the malachite mercenary.

"Naco... say, that sounds familiar. Didn't I rip off a bunch of royalty money from you a few years ago doofus? Hmmm... maybe we're pairing me off with the wrong member of Team possible here. I do like to be spoiled you know." Shego's predatory smirk returned and she made a point of looking Ron up and down appraisingly.

Ron shrank down a bit in his chair, his smirk fading... Monique arched a brow and turned back and forth between her two erstwhile partners. Then she leaned over and wrapped an arm around Ron's, "No no girlfriend.. you already hooked us up... missed the boat there Stringbean."

Ron and Shego both stared at Monique.

-

Vivian, Wade, and Susan Justice had formed another trio in a different part of the waiting area. Their trio swelled into a conversation in the round when the twins Possible joined them, fresh with soda and snacks which they passed around. The twins seemed to be chattering about something regarding a new version of their battle suit for Monique… but they dropped the thread when they came within earshot of Wade,

"Agent Justice... Sorry for calling you out on the tower... but I was a little... hyped up." Wade seemed a little ashamed for outing Susan's tactics so publicly. At least he seemed ashamed now.

"Its okay Wade... we were all a little keyed up that day. I just want to know how you hacked the right spy satellite at the right time to watch us..." She smirked a bit, brown eyes twinkling as she took one of the proffered sodas. She popped the top and began drinking eagerly. It was rare for Anyone at Global Justice Enforcement to get anything as self-indulgent as carbonated beverages.

"That's the old Wade there. The one who covered big sis's butt." J piped up, smirking and clapping Wade on the shoulder. Both of them were much bigger and more muscular than back in 'the old days' of course, so it was a mighty clap on the back.

"Yeah, the Wade of Tapioca fame." Susan chuckled a bit and sipped at her soda again. "I still don't know how you used that communications satellite to take out the gelatin that was hardening the pudding.

Wade shrugged, and there was a faint blush in his cheeks. Vivian arched a brow at the blush and eyed the groups other blonde a little more archly. After a moment considering Susan Justice and Wade with faintly green eyes, "Okay okay… everyone keeps mentioning tapioca and/or San Francisco… can I please get the story?"

"Well you see, about two years ago in San Francisco," Tim Possible began, when the doors opened from the operating theater.

Instantly everyone in the waiting area mobbed Jamie Amygda as she drew her mask off. She held up her hands in surrender, trying to get at least enough room to fully step through the wide double doors. "whoa whoa whoa… gimme some room… You'll get your news, but not if I'm smeared into a paste against the door."

Everyone, with the exception of Shego of course, took a step or two back.

"Okay then…" the internist took a deep breath, and after realizing the green merc wasn't going to give her any more personal space, she continued, "The surgery went exactly as planned, and with one exception, everything turned out better than we expected. The patient has been moved to the ICU, and in a few hours we'll allow you to see her."

The words _with one exception_ caught everyone's' attention immediately. Jamie Amygda, however, continued on without much of a pause. "I have to warn those of you who have never seen a patient after invasive brain surgery… Kim, or Sara, or Jane, or whatever you want to call her… She's a pretty frightening sight. Okay? And we're only allowing her one visitor at a time, for ten minutes, once per hour… Doctor Ntal has a sign up sheet to keep things civil."

"Well, I'm seeing Kimmie-cub first…" Everyone took it as granted, until the young doctor turned surgical spokeswoman spoke up, "Actually James… that brings up the- erm- difficulty we had. Anne is in labor., her water broke towards the end of the procedure. I think you should come with me while we let everyone else sort out the pecking order."

-----

It was five hours before they were allowed to see the woman alternately known as Kim Possible, Sara Smith, and Jane Doe number 1. It took nearly that long to sort out who was going first, and who would follow the next hour, and so on.

Finally, however, everyone came to a mutual decision. Seniority. Who had known Kim longest? With the Dr.'s Possible out of the immediate running, it came to Ron and the tweebs. This actually sorted itself out fairly quickly. When 'J' and Tim Possible, as they had recently started differentiating themselves, were unable to pick between themselves, Ron 'won' by default.

The ICU at Global Justice Enforcement Hospital Number Three was just that; Intensive. Despite the fact that the single occupancy room was twenty feet on a side and had twelve feet ceilings, Ron still had to pick his way amongst various complicated machines to find the guest chair. When he saw the room's lone occupant, he sort of wished he'd gotten himself lost in the machines.

"God Kim… you look like…" Ron sniffed and wiped at his eyes.

The truth was, Kim looked like a monster. Or worse, like the corpse of one. Her beautiful red hair had been completely shaved, which only revealed her scarred face more, including scars beneath her hair line. The satin eye patch he had seen "The Wraith" with three weeks before was also gone, leaving the absence of her left eye and most of the eyebrow painfully obvious.

More disturbing still, was the metallic black 'halo' that was physically bolted to Kim's skull to immobilize it. Ron really didn't want to contemplate the fact that the other half of the halo, hidden under the hospital gown, must be bolted to the bones of her collar. The ugly black stitches on three patches of her bare scalp and the faint glistening of dried blood at their edges was just about more than the young man could stand, and after he glanced at them he nearly left the room.

He took a few shuddering breaths and looked at his lap, not wanting to test his resolve by looking at Kim's abused face; which was, in addition to every thing else, swollen with the drugs she'd been given. It took a long moment for him to begin again.

"So… Kim… Bonnie?" He shook his head very softly, chuckling darkly. "I heard you were sick and all… but come on."

When she didn't challenge his assumptions, he sighed heavily. "Look, they tell me you might be able to hear us… so I'm gonna keep talking. Feel free to jump in any time KP."

He spared her a look, concentrating on her mouth, the one aspect of her once beautiful face that hadn't been marred by explosions or surgery. He noticed, sadly, that the essential kimness was missing from her lips. Her indomitable smile had turned downwards slightly at the corners with what he could only guess were months of frowning.

"We miss you… ya know? The night you got blown up… Well, the way you looked fighting Shego… sharing Naco's at BN that day… I- I really miss you, Kim. I'm not supposed to, ya know… but I do." He sniffed again, looking once more at his hands as he continued after a moment. He was taking a lot of long silent moments.

"Hell, I think Shego even missed you, in her own twisted wrongsick way. You've got to get better. Okay? Rufus wants to see you too. He…"

Ron finally reached for some Kleenex thoughtfully left for visitors, and honked his nose quite loudly. After several minutes trying to think of anything else to say he sighed heavily.

"So… if you don't wake up soon KP, I think Monique's gonna start putting the moves on me… again. I'm not sure I can handle the two of you fighting over me…. But hey, it's every guy's fantasy, right? Two gorgeous women fighting over Potential-boy Ron Stoppable? All we need now are four horsemen and trumpets from on high."

He sniffled slightly and looked up. Her mouth was still and expressionless. "Come on KP… just a little smile?"

With a sigh of resignation, Ron looked at his watch. It was amazing how ten minutes passed."Okay then… Well, like it or not, I'll be back in a few hours. This ten minute rule sucks."

-

An hour later, swearing they would be absolutely respectful and quiet, J and Tim possible were let in, together, to see their sister. J sat down in the guest chair, and Tim, not having a seat, and deathly afraid of sitting on the bed and the complex arrangements of sensors and the automated bed-mover that rolled her from side to side.

"So, big sis is now little sis, huh? Wait… why does that sound familiar?" Tim scratched his head and looked down at the woman lying in the bed.

They both knew how much they'd grown in the year Kim was away at school, and the eighteen months since then. They were easily as tall as their father. Still, when you don't see someone in nearly three years, it's hard to realize the changes.

J looked up, scratching his fingers through his carefully maintained 5 o'clock shadow, and sized up their sister as she lay in the bed. "God, what did they do to you sis? Ron must have been tweaked. You look like you came out of 'Return of the Shambling Dead Five.' I hope all of this was worth it."

Tim very carefully touched her shoulder and shook his head. "You know, when you wake up, you've GOT to tell us about being with a girl… that is so hot!"

J threw a wadded up Kleenex at his twin and shook his head. "God… to think I used to be exactly like you. Sis, when you wake up, you've got to share your therapist with this guy."

"Yeah… you're the one who was trying to get Kim's best friend into bed." Tim shook his head and laughed, turning back to their recalcitrant sister's still form. "Yeah… So get this sis… He knows Monique and Ron were together in Chicago… oh wait, did Ron tell you that? No? Well stop me if you _have_ heard any of this. J here knows that Monique has got this angsty thing going on for Ron, but he still wants to get with her..."

The two boys spent the rest of their allotted ten minutes arguing with their sister's still form about who was wanting who. They, unlike Ron, had to be asked to leave. They still had a lot to tell Kim, though, so they started making notes about what to discuss with her next.

-

Shego closed, and stealthily locked, the ICU room door. She had no intention of being interrupted during her Kimmie time. She walked across the floor and sat down next to Kim's bed, straddling the chair backwards. She tried to ignore the fact that the machine designed to turn Kim over in bed was the same type that had turned Drakken back in Middleton G.H.

"So Pumpkin. Turned to the dark side huh? Always knew it would happen. Fate of any good teen hero." Her dark green lips held a ghost of a smirk and Shego shook her head slowly. "But stealin' my shtick? I don't know if I should be flattered or pissed. Though, got to say, the eye patch… you were workin it. Damn you had me thought I was seeing a ghost. But I guess I was huh?"

She eyed the bald, scarred, torpid young woman in front of her; and shook her head again. After a moment's internal debate, she looked up."Hey, kitten, do you mind if I try something? I need an answer to this question I've got, and I know I won't get it if you wake up."

When there was no response, Shego lifted one leg artfully over the back of the chair and stood up, crossing to the bed. "Now… if you die in the next few minutes, at least you'll die happy, got it pumpkin?"

She paused and looked around, despite having locked the room when she came in, Interuption was the last thing she wanted. She leaned down and swept her iridescent green-black hair back and away from the halo as she approached Kim's face. She frowned a bit, and turned her head this way and that. "Hmmm… okay, not the romantic moment I'd thought… how the hell do I…?"

Finally, she had the angle she wanted. Leaning in, Shego pressed her lips to the sleeping woman's and closed her eyes.

It wasn't an incredibly passionate kiss, with moaning and moving of mouths and tongues and lips, but it was no simple peck on the lips either. After a long moment, Shego pulled back and pursed her lips. A slow smirk spread over her dark lips and she shook her head, retreating to the chair. "Hmmmm, nope. You're damned cute sweet heart, but you're not my type. Which is weird, because I always had a thing for redheads."

She sighed softly. This would be the point where Kim would loudly and defiantly proclaim her hatred of Shego and swear an oath to bring her to justice. No such outburst came. Not even timid denials of her questionable sexual orientation passed the somnolent woman's lips.

"So, I guess that answers a couple of questions for me, Kimmie. I think I figured out why I spent the last year and a half trying to avenge you, ya know? Kim Possible…" Shego sighed heavily, never imagining she'd be letting these words past her lips. This was Miss Go territory, not Shego territory.

"…you're my best friend. My worst fucking enemy too, but that's beside the point. Go figure that one? We spent what, six years trying to beat the shit out of each other on a weekly basis, and you're the best friend I have in this fucked up world." She laughed softly, tossing her dark hair and feeling glad that no one could see or hear her at the moment, save for the machines in the room and the stoic woman who refused to be baited out of her coma.

"I mean, come on. You saved my family's ass twice and never even asked for a thank you from your old arch nemesis. You got rid of that bitch Warmonga twice for me, and kept me with the one man who could stand my bad ass attitude when I was ready to throw it in. Drakken's many things, but under it all, he's a nice guy. A hell of a lot nicer than my real daddy, you know. Yes, I think of him like a father, not a pump, before you go getting any wrong ideas."

"So I guess I'm saying, even though you stole my style, broke my neck… and Princess, you _did_ break my neck. The dicks here examining me proved that with an Xray… not to mention your imaginary better self getting my happy green ass shot... I want you to get better. Got it? I don't care if you screw with Ron's head and go back to banging that cheer leader… God, I'm even calling the Doofus by name. You've made me go soft, you little bitch."

Laughing softly, Shego suddenly remembered the Green Wraith's taunts about how much better she was than the original Shego and in what ways, "You're right you know. Bonnie was a nice piece of ass… you got good taste in women. Still don't get what you saw in Stoppable though."

"Anyways… Even if you turn out a little darker when you wake up, you need to wake up as _Kim_, got it Princess? Too many people are counting on you. You're the girl who can do any-fucking-thing, remember? And that damned well better include coming back from the dead, Lazarus, or I'm suing your estate for false advertising."

Shego got up and quietly let herself out of the room. She didn't need to milk her ten minutes dry like Ron and Kim's brothers did. She'd said what she needed to say at the moment, and found out what she wanted to know. Now she needed to go see a man about an arrest record.

-

Nine hours after the surgery; the screaming, and the crying, and the threatening of Jame's manhood all were done. Miriam Kimberly Possible came into the world weighing nine pounds four ounces. She had her mother's sea-green eyes, and her father's and brothers' dark brown hair, and apparently, her older sister's inquisitive nature. Before she fell asleep, her blue-green eyes were taking in everything in the delivery room, and it wasn't until she was rested in her mother's arms that she relaxed and settled down to sleep.

James, himself, felt torn. Should he stay with his exhausted wife and new daughter? Or should he go and pay his visit to his first daughter and let her know everything was going to be all right? The decision was made for him when Anne pointed an imperious finger at the door while easing Mim back into the waiting arms of a nurse.

"James… We're fine… you need to go check on Kim. Besides, in about five minutes, the endorphins are going to wear off and I'm going to konk out, and I know how you hate to listen to me snore." She gave him a playful but tired smile and kept pointing.

He saw Shego just coming out of Kim's room and tried not to hide his disappointment as he approached. If she was just coming out, it meant he would have to wait nearly an hour to go in and visit with his sleeping daughter. He quickly found, however, that he was mobbed for news on the baby, so the time passed quickly.

"What color are her eyes?"

"How much did she weigh?"

"Did she cry much?"

"How's mom feeling?"

"Yeah, did she fracture your hand like last time?"

"Is the monitoring for her nursery all set up?"

"I got some swaddling ready for her back in Middleton, just like Mrs. P. asked."

"So, when do I get to start teaching her how to kick ass like her big sis?"

The last, of course, was Shego... but everyone just chuckled and nodded in agreement that any child of the Possibles could probably start doing incredible things like crib tai chi or trigonometry within a few hours after of birth.

James Possible happily answered all the questions, and finally, when the allotted hour had passed, he extricated himself after passing out pink bubblegum cigars, and quietly entered the woman's ICU room.

When he set eyes on her, he sighed heavily and felt a lot of the past hour's joy flee. "Oh kimmie-cub… what have you done? Stealing? Sleeping around… with other women?"

He shook his head gently and touched her hand. "I was always worried something like this would happen kitten. But at least you're home now, huh? We'll get everything back to normal."

He sighed softly and stroked her hand. "Your mother told me that you're like this because of brain damage. I hope so Kimberly… I would hate to think my daughter is turning into the kind of person that that Shego is. Or was? Ron tells me she's changing. Hopefully she goes back to being that Miss Go person, and you go back to being my Kimmie-cub."

-

Monique spent the first five minutes of her visit crying. Who wouldn't, she thought? Kim looked like she belonged on the set of Frankenstein, not in a hospital bed. Finally, snuffling and snorting to a stop, mostly, She straightened herself up.

"Okay… I didn't want to say anything in front of Glowstick and Ron, but…" She sighed and looked at the woman in the bed, shaking her head and wiping at her eyes with a tissue, "_IS_ that really you in there Kim? You didn't recognize us up there at all girl. Wanted to gut me like a trout? Couldn't remember Ron's last name?"

Rubbing at her nose a bit, Monique shook her head. "The only reason I think you knew Shego and Bonnie was because you'd seen them since… since the accident? Since the explosion? The attempt on your life?"

Wadding up the tissue, she threw it into the waste basket with as much authority as she could muster. Sighing at the complete lack of satisfaction it provided, she looked up and shook her head irritably. "I don't want to have to make another new friend this year Kim… And I really don't think I could like anyone hanging out with Bonnie Rockwaller."

Honking her nose softly with a fresh tissue, Monique looked up to the young woman in the bed again and sighed resignedly. "But if I have to… I suppose I could adjust to the new you, whoever that is. Just… don't invite me to the wedding if that's who you wake up as. I don't think you or Bonnie qualify to wear white at that affair."

-

A few days later, Shego sat with Anne and James Possible, across the table from Will Du and Susan Justice, and sighed heavily, shaking her head. "I can't fucking believe I'm agreeing to this. I don't even want to know why my aunt and uncle hired that lawyer."

"Kelly… Please. It's this or hard time." Mr. Doctor Possible wrung his hands just a bit and looked across at the Director of GJE, who was not looking to pleased.

"James… call me Shego… not even my own brothers call me by that name any more. And… Gah… I'd almost prefer prison to this.

"Fine, I'll call you Shego; but please, It's Mister or Doctor Possible. My wife may put up with your lack of respect, but I'd like to think the woman who helped save our daughter could have a little more class." Despite his firm words, James was smiling. Partly at being able to repay Shego, and partly at turning the tables on the arrogant little bastard who had dared frame and set up his daughter, cover that up, and then threatened to arrest all of her friends and family under shakey pretense.

"Fine fine… I'll sign the damned thing." Shego signed her name, yes, as Shego, to the bottom of the last page of the very thick legal briefs, and it was all done. "Just as long as my brother's don't insist on monthly visitation, all right? They never knew I was here to start with, I don't need them dropping by for family game night now."

Will Du nodded and signed his own name to the paper, above the maes of Anne and James Possible and Susan Justice as witnesses. He clearly was no more happy with the arrangement than Shego was. "Don't worry Shego. Team Go was sent home shortly after Miss Possible was sent into surgery. They, like everyone else in the world, are still under the illusion that she is deceased. They were also told you were taken away to a different facility to await trial. Your oldest brother seemed a little hurt. Maybe I should let him know about your little settlement."

"You do that, and you can just forget about me playing along quietly dickweed. I like my family the way it is,,, distant and easily forgotten. If they find out how soft I've gone…" She go shuddered at the thought. Hego would undoubtedly start spouting off once more about the renewed Team Go, just like he did when she'd been Miss Go, and had been sucked into that damned group hug.

Susan smirked and eyed her boss. "Will, do you really want Dean Go running around here punching holes in walls and agents? He's not the brightest shade of blue you know. He lives his life in a fantasy world, and he'd start treating this place like his own Parkham Assylum if he knew his sister was…"

"Fine fine fine…" Will sighed and cupped his chin in a hand, shaking his head. "Miss Go… a pleasure doing business with you." though his expression said otherwise.

-----

Weeks passed. They included Kim's twenty-third birthday. It was celebrated when Kim/Sara/Jane was moved out of the ICU unit and to a private room. There were hats and cakes and candles. The woman in the bed didn't wake up, but at least her hair started to grow back.

In late April, Ron and Monique came by again. Shego was still there. For reasons she hadn't explained to anyone, she'd never left the Hospital. "An Easter lily, Stoppable? I didn't know the kid was Christian."

"She's not; she's secular humanist, just like her 'rents. But she likes the flower. She says it always stands tall or something symbolic like that." Ron shrugged and sat it next to her bed. He spent several minutes adjusting it as Monique tugged in an extra chair.

Monique Finally sat down, wiping her forehead. "Oh, Shego… Can you help me change Kim later? I finally got the new gowns in from CB:Health."

"CB:Health?" Shego blinked and scratched her head. "What the hell is CB:Health?"

"Monique grinned like the cat that ate the canary and passed Shego a card. It read: _Monique R Browne; Lead Purchaser, Club Banana/SmartyMart Uniforms and Hospital._

Shego tapped the card against her lower lip and chuckled. "You're kidding me… you take over a year off, and when you get back, they promote you and buy up your hospital gown designs? I'm in the wrong line of work… I should have been a corporate raider."

Monique and Shego exchanged high fives as Ron chuckled. He shook his head and returned, looking at a small wrapped package that he didn't recognize. He flicked the tag and eyed it. "To Sara: For when you wake up… don't let the…"

He sighed and shook his head softly. "It's from Bonnie to the 'other' Kim… should I open it?"

Shego made a face and shook her head. Monique sighed softly and ran a hand through her wavy black hair. "Maybe later, Ron. I don't like that girl trying to assert that Sara is the person inside Kim's head. Girlfriend seriously needs to see a therapist. It's been nearly a month and she won't listen to nobody bout who this is."

She tried to hide her own doubts, shaking her head and handing Ron a card as well. "Here you go Naco boy. Since I ain't seen you in two weeks either. Incidentally, what are you doing this evening?"

Shego smirked. Apparently her mocha girl was making good on her earlier threats. Curiosity got the better of her though. "You know, I've been stuck here under house arrest for the last month and a half. Lord knows I'm not one to follow the rules… what do you say we find out what the psycho cheerleader sent Pumpkin?"

Shego was about to tear into the non-descript cardboard box when there was a knock at the doorway. They turned just in time to see someone inching a stroller in the door, followed by a pair of proud parents.

"Hola Possible clan! How's the new little bundle of joy?" Ron's broad grin was contagious, and everyone, save for the woman in the bed, turned to face James and Anne and baby Mim.

Monique squealed softly when she saw Miriam in the pink and red romper she had designed a few months before, and ran over, kneeling down and making noises at the baby as she smiled broadly and checked the fit of the little suit. She carefully adjusted the little baby so the monogrammed M.K.P. was more clearly visible and babbled at the infant. "Ah cootchy cootchy coo!"

"Gah… Why does everyone dress little girls in pink? Anne, I thought you had more taste than that. Then again, you did let your other daughter over there run around in pink Capri's her entire sophomore year…" Shego's disgust with the stereotypical color was belied by the gleam in her eyes at the sight of the child who had been named in honor of her formerly 'late' sister.

"Shego… I suppose you want her in green and black?" Anne possible shook her head and chuckled, moving to lift her daughter out of the stroller and carry her over to the bed.

Everyone was glad that the hideous black halo had been removed from the woman's head and neck. They were equally glad that the points where the screws had secured metal to bone were quickly fading; one less reminder of all that the young woman had gone through over the last twenty or so months.

"Maybe mint and charcoal." Shego smirked and shook her head. "Now, you've got to tell me your secret… you crapped out this little watermelon three weeks ago, and now I can't tell you've had any children since those annoying tweebs."

Anne laughed a bit self consciously, and did her best to ignore child birth being compared to passing a large bowel movement. "Let's just say the boys weren't the only ones using their little gym the last two weeks while we were back home."

Mrs. Possible turned her eyes on the three young heroes now a bit more seriously. "Incidentally… I know I didn't say it before. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry for the way I snapped at you three last month. It wasn't fair to unload on you a few days after you risked your lives in that fire fight. If I'd been in my right mind…"

"Take it easy Mrs. P. It's no big. We deserved it for not telling you what we knew." Ron was shaking his head, a small smile curving his lips as he was allowed back into his second family.

"Yeah Mrs. Possible," Monique continued, nodding rapidly in agreement, "It was ferociously harsh of us not to tell you about who was shooting up Kim's headstone."

"Okay, okay, so everyone was rong and bad and making piss poor choices… now, you going to introduce those two? Or make us all stand around here and play the sorry game some more?" Shego snorted and pointed towards the room's only silent occupant.

"Of course…" Anne smiled broadly and turned, moving to the side of the bed, inclining a bit so that the little girl with blue-green eyes could see and be seen by the bed's slumbering occupant. "Kim, I'd like you to meet your baby sister, Miriam Kimberly Possible."

She sniffled just a bit despite the broad smile on her face, and bounced the infant in her arms a little. "Mim, this is your big sister Kim. She saves the world, she can do anything, you know."

The baby stared at the sleeping woman for a little bit, and then was finally returned to her stroller, where she continued to look around the room. She seemed particularly interested in the buttons of the bed turner and the bed alarms for some reason.

"Okay okay… enough of this sappy maudlin shit. I want to see what Bonnie sent all the way from London."

"Shego… could you please watch your language around my infant daughter? I would rather she not pick up your mouth this early in life."

"Sure thing Ja- Sorry; sure thing Doctor Possible."

"What the heck is that? It looks like a whiskey still or something?"

"Holly Mother of Mocha… it's an espresso machine! The one in Club Banana Corporate Headquarters isn't that nice. It must have cost Bonnie a fortune!"

'_espresso… that sounds good.'_

"James… that poor Rockwaller girl. She doesn't even have a job right now. How could she go and spend all her money on this? We just have to send it back!"

"It's okay dear. I think she'd be a lot more hurt if we did that. She still thinks Kimmie-cub is going to wake up as Sara. Let's just let her make the gift, okay?"

"Hey Doctor P… think you can hook it up? I can make us up some spankin cups while we're here. Maybe KP would even like one."

"Yeah Doctor Possible. The junk they have down in the vending machine won't hold a candle to what the Doofus can brew up with this baby!"

'_yeah, Ron makes good coffee.'_

"Monique dear, why don't you go and get us some mugs from the nurses' station while Anne and I get some water for this monstrosity."

"Sure thing Mrs. P, should I take baby Mim along? I'll bet she makes a good concessions cart."

'_mmmm, fresh brewed'_

"Monique! My daughter is not a coffee table. But yes, take her with you. She just loves seeing new things."

"Hey Mo, while you're out, see if anyone around here has any cinnamon."

"Hey Kim, you want Mochachino there to bring you a mug too?"

There was a very faint whisper from the bed. If it hadn't fallen between comments by the other occupants, it would have gone completely unnoticed in the excitement over the expensive coffee maker. As it was, the tiny, weak, scratchy little whisper stilled the entire room.

"…please and thank you…"

No one else could speak, and they all stared at the bed's occupant. She hadn't seemed to have moved at all. Maybe they'd just imagined it. Still, they all stared at her intently.

Finally Ron worked up enough will to ask what everyone was afraid to. He was terrified if he said a single word wrong, their hopes would all be dashed. His own terrified whisper was barely louder than the one they imagined they'd heard a second ago.

"KP?"

After a deadly still moment during which no one dared so much as breathe, the young woman in the bed gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. An emerald green eye drifted slowly open, wincing against the light, and a familiar smile spread over soft pink lips.

"Princess!"

"Kimmiecub!"

"Kim!"

"Kimberly Anne!"

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

"Girl, you better hush up your cryin', your big sis is awake!"

"Oh please…" said the tired woman in the bed, with a slightly stronger voice, "So not the Drama. So, what did I miss?"

**THE END**

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**TEAM POSSIBLE WILL RETURN IN**_

"_**Kim Possible: God Save the Tweebs"**_


End file.
